


Ladies Man

by Navyblueyoucallmesexy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Bruises, Deans made a mess again, Destiel - Freeform, Developing Story, F/M, Ghosties, Homophobic Language, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mistakes, Monster - Freeform, Nudity, Rating will change, Salt n burn, Sam is the real hero, Secrets, Sex swap, broken fingers, chimera, femDean, grope, hexbags, i need to learn how to tag, injuries, mishap, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-11-15 19:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 23,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11237541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Navyblueyoucallmesexy/pseuds/Navyblueyoucallmesexy
Summary: "I'm hot." Dean smirked, watching the tall, dirty blonde in the mirror do the same. "Sam! I'm ridiculously hot. I'd tap that. This. Me.""Dude that's so messed up."





	1. Chapter 1

It was rare that Dean Winchester got to sleep in. With the dingy motels on busy highways and sounds from other rooms it was hard to get any sleep at all. Not that he'd ever needed any, as a hunter in his prime he never slept more than four hours a night and Dean had always been a little proud of that.

Now they had the bunker though and Dean was older (as painful as it was to admit) and he discovered he could enjoy some quiet time in his own room. Not like that! Well.. Not always like that. Anyway these lie-ins were happening more frequently, but who y'could blame him? Give a boy Memory foam plus a clean set of sheets sans mystery patches of course Dean was going to sleep in. Every day of the god damn week.

"DEAN."

Except the days of the god damn week in that his asshat of a brother was a colossal douche. "NO."

"IT'S PAST NOON."

"NOT IN HAWAII."

The older hunter smiled contently and pulled his covers further up under his chin as he snuggled down into his pillow. He let out a long yawn and felt himself drifting off again when his door opened with a click and creaked wider.

"You're such a child." He heard Sam mutter.

Dean made an annoying mumbly mimic and refused to move or even open his eyes. In fact, he buried himself under the covers so deep his head disappeared inside the duvet burrito.

"Get up."

"No." Came the muffled reply.

There was a quiet pause, then an alarm was going off on the other side off the covers. It must have been Sam's phone making the blaring sound but it was muffled by the covers so Dean wasn't too bothered. He'd slept through worse.

"Nice try!" He yelled through the covers and over the sound of the alarm. Dean heard a loud huff of frustration.

It went quiet after that. No noises, no little brothers, just Metallica and R rated dreams...

He really should have heard his brothers footsteps or felt him tug at the end of his covers, hunters' senses and all that, but he really was pretty far away in dreamland when Sam ripped the covers from his body with a "WAKE UP."

Dean felt like he'd had a bucket of water thrown over his head, all his instincts kicking in as he fought down the urge to pull his hidden gun on Sam.

Eyes wide open, arms and legs freezing,  Dean expected Sam to be doubled over laughing. Or at least snorting.

He wasn't laughing though. He wasn't even smiling. He was stood still holding Dean's covers staring straight at him with a puzzled face. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" He replied, clearing his throat and wiping sleep from his eyes as he considered what form of pay back he'd take. Maybe he'd steal Sam's laptop battery.

"That's you?" Sam asked, still staring.

Dean raised an eyebrow, putting his revenge thoughts on hold. "Yeah..?"

With an awkward cough, Sam glanced pointed down at Dean's chest and back to his face. Repeatedly.

Following Sam's eyes Dean found himself looking down at two mounds with clearly protruding nipples under his Zeppelin tee, hair framing his sight as he did. Glancing back up at Sam, Dean was dumbstruck.

Sam blinked twice, hard. "I think you need to look in a mirror."

 

 

 

"I'm hot." Dean smirked, watching the tall, dirty blonde in the mirror do the same. "Sam! I'm ridiculously hot. I'd tap that. This. Me."

"Dude that's so messed up." Sam said as he walked past the doorway.

The Dean in the mirror was around 5'8", her dark blonde hair was messy but not much longer than Sam's and she was wearing Dean's old Zeppelin tee and underpants. They were too big for her, clearly, but she wasn't thin. She had the right amount of curves around her hips and a softenness in her belly that reminded Dean of his own. She looked like something he'd hooked up with in Wisconsin. Or maybe it was Milwaukee.

On closer inspection (Dean's face practically pressed against the mirror), the new face had all of Dean's old blemishes, the bruise from that hunt last week, even the bags under his eyes that had kinda become a permanent feature in his face. She had them.

So this isn't a Freaky Friday kinda thing. Huh.

Dean stretched his face out and pulled some faces, watching as the chick in the mirror copied. His teeth looked the same, nose and eyes. He spot checked clusters of freckles - all pretty much as he remembered them.

Purely for scientific reasons, Dean had a look down his pants and top, checking out his ass too for good measure. _Yep. Definitely would fuck._ Dean thought, peeking another glance at his new tits and nodding approvingly. _Kinda like Lisa's_.

Dean caught the girl in the mirror looking at her rack and laughed at himself. He'd never seen a girl look so proud of/turned on by her own boobs.

Hands up his shirt and cupping each breast, Dean walked out into the main hall, where Sam was (as always) glued to his computer.

"Dean this is impossible. You must have done something that's caused this. We didn't find any talismans or hexbags in your room and and what the hell are you doing?" He asked, finally looking up from his laptop and lifting his eyebrows at Dean's chest.

Dean shrugged. It wasn't like Sam could see anything, his hands were under his shirt. Well he could probably see his stomach, but he used to wander around the bunker with his top off all the time. Sure his hips and waist were prettier now but not much was different. "These things are heavy. And it's comfy." And how often does a guy get to just hold boobs. "Tits aren't just for sex Sam, stop sexualizing me."

"I'm not-! Dean you're my broth - uh - sister. That's just - no. No." Sam stumbled, looking away with a grimace. Dean just laughed, he'd been joking about the sexualizing thing like he would as a guy but clearly Sam wasn't getting the sarcasm. "Can we decide on a pronoun please? Should I be referring to you as a girl now?"

"No." Dean answered, ignoring Sam's comment and sitting opposite the giant. "Male. Obviously. I'm still a guy in here, Sam. Just locked in a dickless body."

"Right, sorry, I don't really know the protocol for whatever this is." He was kinda right, with all the weird stuff they'd faced it was surprising they'd never even heard of this before. He'd been a kid, he'd been vampire, hell he'd even been a cat that one time but never a woman. Dean shrugged and picked up the beer he'd left at the table, wondering what they'd grab for lunch. "Honestly Dean I've checked all the regular stuff, we've not had a case in days and we've barely even left the bunker. Hell the last time you went out was a beer run a week ago. You're sure you've not touched or opened something in the archives?"

Dean rolled his eyes, taking a swig of the cheap-ass beer. "I'm not an idiot Sam. I've only been down there once and that was when you asked me to! You wanted that old oak-blessed-in-baby-blood stake and I went and got it for you. I didn't open anything or touch anything. Hell it's not like I  -" he paused, bottle half way to his lips. _Damn, there was that jar._

"What? What is it Dean? Did something happen?"

He fiddled with the neck of the bottle and pulled an awkward face. "Ah.." Admitting he'd fucked up was worse then being cursed. With a grumble Dean rubbed the back of his neck, his new long hair tickling it. "I kinda, sort of, knocked over a jar when I went back there." Sam groaned. "But there was nothing in it, so, y'know, I just shoved it back onto the shelf and forgot all about it."

"Deeean."

"I had nothing in it!" Dean attempted to defend himself, "It wasn't covered in marks or anything either and anyway that was days ago!" Sam still groaned like Dean was the biggest idiot ever. Which he might well have been if this was all caused by that jar.

"Why didn't you tell me? It could've been anything, we don't know what half the crap here is or what it all does. Rule one, Dean; don't touch Men of Letters crap." Sam lectured, watching as Dean drained the last of his beer and burped.

Dean smiled a little at Sam's reaction, before focusing again. "So what, you're gonna assume this is a mystery curse from a mysteriously empty mystery jar?" Sam executed bitchface #7 and Dean gave up, leaning back in his seat. "Y'know I'm not really seeing the downside of all this if it is a curse. Boobs are awesome, sure the hair's kinda annoying but I can deal. Not exactly like the rabbits foot or the killer skin rag." Dean added with a thought, shuddering. At least he _hoped_ it wasn't like that. Dean looked down to where his cock should've been and tilted his head a little. Would that even work the same if he-?

"Curses work in different ways," Sam said, conveniently interrupting Dean's weird train of thought. He coughed a little and refocused on Sam. "You never know. You might get a period or something."

Dean blinked a little, stunned by what he'd heard. "That's not funny." He said in a choked voice. "Don't say that."

Sam smirked and raised his eyebrows before returning to his laptop. "By the oak-blessed-in-baby-blood? So in archive seven?" Sam asked, his fingers clickity-clacking on the keyboard as he typed.

Dean wasn't listening. He was still very concerned. Periods don't actually hurt though, _right_? 


	2. Chapter 2

The bunker archives were huge, dusty old rooms full to the brim with useless junk. The dim bulbs flickered as they wandered through the cold maze of artefacts and locked boxes. It looked like the backdrop for a scary movie with the cobwebs and dark corners but then again their life was just one lone horror film.

Actually, Dean had never seen a horror film where the main guy got turned into a chick.

"Told you." Dean said with his perfected older brother I-Was-Right voice, even if it was an octave higher than usual. He waved a hand at the dirty glass jar on the shelf, with a triumphant face. "Empty jar. No sigils or marks or anything on it. The shelf isn't even that good. You don't put something important on a shitty shelf." He said, wiggling the shelf on its hinges. Weirdly, as he moved the old plank of wood with his arms his upper body jiggled. Dean added re-enforcing bunker shelves and buy a bra to his ever growing to-do list. Not that he was gonna be a girl long enough to need a bra.

Sam picked up the old bottle, inspecting it carefully. It was just an old flacon, a glass stopper in the top with a rubber seal. "You shouldn't judge a book by its cover, this thing could be the source of all your problems." He said, turning it around.

"So what, we smash it?" Dean suggested.

"Uh, no." Sam said, looking at Dean as if he were a caveman. "I'll look up the serial number in the men of letters index and study what I can find."

"Right, right." Dean nodded.

Sam was still looking at Dean with that judging look. Like he couldn't believe he was even related to Dean. "Smash it? Seriously?"

"What? I dunno. Quick solutions." Dean shrugged, accepting the jar off Sam and (naturally) started throwing and catching it. Until something on the bottom caught his eye.

"Anger management issues." Sam mumbled.

"Shut up." Dean said, staring at the symbol on the bottom of the glass. It was a lion with a horse head sticking out of it's back, carved into the jar. It was shallow so you could only see it at certain angles in the dim light but Dean spotted it and stared, tilting the bottle with his new, more delicate fingers, so the light would reflect off in the right way.

"Maybe its PMS."

"Shut your face." Dean mumbled, shoving the upside down jar into Sam's arms. Sam grinned, as if his point was being proven. "Symbol thing, there. You've got research t'do. Come on. Chop, chop." Dean said, stepping aside to let his brother pass first.

 

 

 

"So get this; in Greek mythology a chimera is a fire-breathing monster."

"A Ky-mirror?" Dean frowned, poking his head up from behind some cardboard boxes.

Sam had his head in a book this time, a big, old, probably-hasn't-been-opened-in-a-hundred-years tome of a book. "A Chimera." Sam corrected, falling further into his book. "That symbol you found? It's for these mythological monsters that are more than one animal combined. Like the symbol shows, it has a lion head, a goats head on its back and apparently it's tail is a snake."

Dean zoned out somewhere around 'mythological monsters' and went back to the task in front of him. Finding a hairband. All this hair was starting to get irritating. Besides the general swish of it, it was so hot and tickle-y. Dean needed a hair tie. "A goat?" Dean muttered, trying to seem as though he was listening.

"Yeah. Apparently her fire dazzles people into submitting to her will. However, according to the Men Of Letters documents, the fire is more of a flammable gas. A hunter must have given them a sample to experiment with."

Hair ties were harder to find than Dean had originally thought. So far he'd been through two of Charlie's boxes of personal stuff only to find one of those thin metal clips and... Glitter hairspray? He put it back in the box and shook his head a little. If Charlie weren't dead she'd be getting teased like fuck right now.

"Y'know this might make sense Dean. I mean, she's female in the stories, but she's always seen with a mane - and girl lions don't have manes. I don't know, maybe this has something to do with the gender ambiguity going on here?"

Dean pulled an elastic band from the box and shrugged. It looked like it should work.

"Dean?" The older hunter raised his eyebrows at Sam, who was watching Dean with a bemused took. "I wouldn't use that if I were you." He mumbled, eyeing up the elastic. "Those things hurt like hell."

Dean rolled his eyes at his wimp of a brother and fixed his hair up into a wonky ponytail (at least it was off his neck) and made his way over to Sam. "So this Chimera thing is what? Part dragon? Why would it turn me into a girl?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "I don't know, I'm not an expert. The Men of Letters have some pretty good information though, we should be able to track her with this." He said, turning the book to face Dean as he wandered over.

"Thunderstorms and hurricanes. Okay, yeah, we can work with that."

 

 

  
They could work with that. Well Sam could anyway. He found some action in Rockwell, Mason City, about 6 hours drive while Dean caught up on Game of Thrones and jiggled his new left boob.

"Sweet." Dean grinned, giving lefty a last squeeze before jogging out of the library and back to his room to find some pants. Sam's bitchface was one for the records.

Dean hadn't really thought about it much till he was stood in his noral clothes, but it probably wasn't okay to wear something that didn't fit. That he might actually have to buy women's clothing. His old jeans were the right length, but there was an unnerving bagginess at the crotch. His hips were just a tad too wide so they didn't quite button and his flannel was doing this weird thing where, when the buttons were done up, there were huge gaps where you could totally just see straight through. Dean sighed and threw on an old jumper, not feeling like himself at all.

Uncomfortably, Dean wandered back into the main hall of the bunker and mumbled a "We going?" without much enthusiasm.

"Dean." Sam said as he looked up to see Castiel. "I called Cas."

Great, Dean thought, wonder if he's told Crowley or Jody yet. Hell, he should just send out an email blast to everyone they know. Dean Winchester's a girl. No, seriously, I'm not even joking. Tits and everything. Crowley would have a field day.

Dean was expecting at least a passing remark from Castiel, but no. He looked at Dean for a long time, his eyes just boring into Dean in that way they usually did. The way that made Dean's insides feel exposed. He stayed like that for a while, Sam waiting patiently for either of them to answer. Or maybe just to watch Cas' response to Deans newly female body.

When Dean had had just about enough and was about to make a snide remark, Cas raised his left eyebrow in a facial expression that seemed to read "Okay then." Or as Dean translated it, "Hot damn."

"Great." Dean smiled sarcastically, making a beeline for the garage and trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. "I'll be in the car."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
Dean cheered up significantly on the road with his music blasting. He smacked the wheel in time with the music and strummed on nothing through the guitar solo. "You've been coolin', baby, I've been droolin'. All the good times, baby, I've been misusin'." He sang loudly, wondering if this female version of his voice was as good at singing as his old one.

Sam half smiled at him and looked out of the window, letting the cool air fill the car. Dean knew he'd been stressing over this curse and after being cooped up in the bunker for so long it was a relief being on the road again.

"A-way, way down inside, I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you every inch of my love. Gonna give you my love." Dean grinned and caught Cas' eye in the mirror from the back seat. He looked amused. It hadn't been Deans idea to invite Cas, but Sam had said it was worth a shot in case things went sideways. He tried not to remember their interaction this morning, the butterflies he'd felt. "Wanna whole lotta love. Wanna whole lotta love. Wanna whole lotta love." He sang, drowning out his thoughts.

The road was clear and long for miles and miles. Dean loved this kinda drive. They'd caught drift of the Chimera and Dean couldn't wait for the road trip. Or he couldn't wait to be a guy again, one or the other. Anyway there was food on the back seat and a cooler beside Cas, the sun was low on the horizon and his music was blasting out all four windows as they rolled down the concrete. His spirits were high and nothing was gonna slow him down. Definitely not the speed limit. "Wanna whole lotta love!" He yelled, not even caring how out of tune he was.

Sam laughed and joined in, his air guitar kicking in as they sang together. "Way down inside, woman, you need -" Dean pumped the drums, smacking the wheel with a building speed.

The car stuttered and made a funny noise, but Dean was too wrapped up in his solo to notice. "Uh, Dean?" Castiel tapped Dean's shoulder, concerned.

Sam played his air guitar hard as Dean took the big note. "Lo-o-ove!" He sang, banging out the rhythm on the car door where his arm lay.

"Dean!" Cas yelled over the music, making Dean look over his shoulder, ponytail swishing as he did. The swishing hair was really going to take some getting used to, how did Sam manage it? "The car's making a strange sound."

Dean turned off the music (only mildly irritated) and looked back at Cas again. "What?"

Cas opened his mouth to tell Dean again but the car slowed to a juddery halt, so Cas clearly didn't deem it necessary.

"No, no, no, no! Baby, no!" Dean groaned, smacking the wheel again, this time more violently.

They all sat in silence for a good three minutes before Dean looked up to the ceiling and muttered something that would've made Crowley blush.

He turned the key and all three men went quiet listening to the bub-bub-bub of the engine as it tried and failed to start. Dean sighed.

Sam exchanged a look with Cas before opening the door. "Should we push it onto the side?"

"Yeah." Dean mumbled, climbing out the drivers side and making his way to the back of the car. Sam joined him and they both looked expectantly at the angel in the back seat. "Cas get your perky little ass out here and help."

He appeared between the Winchesters with a small "Sorry." Before they quickly placed their hands on the back and pushed the car over. It was a lot easier with an angel on board but even with the sun low it was a hot day so they were all sticky with sweat anyway by the time she was safely off the road. Dean regretted the jumper even more. Boob sweat wasn't nearly as attractive as it looked in porn.

Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he pushed away the stray bits of hair sticking to his forehead and lifted the hood, eyes narrowing at every piece of metal that glinted inside. Everything looked in place, the battery connections looked fine, spark plugs.. Dean would check them to be sure. As he pulled the ignition coil out he heard Sam and Cas talking to each other.

"Should we offer to help?" Castiel asked Sam, watching Dean from a distance.

Sam scoffed and took a swig of his water, "Last time I tried to help with something like this, he hit me with a monkey wrench until I backed away."

Cas raised his eyebrows but didn't comment.

"Pass me the screwdriver from under the back seat?" He called over to them.

Sam gestured to Cas with a slightly fearful expression, stepping further away from the car strictly than necessary.

Dean looked back at the motor with a small smile and when he looked up again Cas was stood by his side holding the screwdriver and a bottle of water. "Thanks, man." He smiled, taking the bottle first and chugging half before screwing the lid back on. He licked his lips and nodded appreciatively, he hadn't realised how much he'd needed that.

Cas stood a little too still, seemingly frozen. Dean frowned, concerned but not too bothered by the angels weird behaviour, and snatched the screwdriver from Cas' hand. "Do you wanna learn?" Dean's asked after a few moments of awkward stillness.

Cas jumped a little and his eyes darted from Deans lips to his face. He considered the offer, the cogs whirring in his brain, and smiled a little, the engine in his head warming up again. "Yes."

"Right." Dean smiled back, glad he was Cas again. "Spark, right, yeah, okay. So you use a jumper cable to ground the screwdriver. Drag the screwdriver down each plug wire an' around the coil. If you see an arc from the wire to the screwdriver, you got a defective wire." Dean said, letting his hands follow the simple steps naturally. Even if they were a tad more feminine than usual. The hands. Not the movement.

Cas watched his hands intently. "There's no arc, so it's fine?" He asked.

"Yeah." Dean frowned, he's kinda been hoping it was the spark plugs. That would've been easier to fix. "This might take a little longer than I expected."

Dean hunched over the hood for half an hour fiddling with this and that. Sam got bored and sat down on the roadside and stuck his earphones in. Cas stood by Dean and watched quietly. It wasn't uncomfortable, it just felt like pressure; especially since the engine wasn't getting any better. "Maybe it's the wires." He mumbled, slamming the hood shut and marching round to the passengers seat. He was bent under the glove box when he felt it; a hex bag.

It was tucked into the interior of the car, Dean poked it as he was about to expose the wires, pausing. A hex bag tucked into the car? That had to be what was wrong. Who the hell had cursed his car? Some witch-bitch was going to get a roasting.

"Everything okay, Dean?"

"Ah, yeah," Dean coughed, slipping the hexbag into his pocket and climbing out of the car. He fixed on a grin as fake as a Kardashian ass and slapped the roof of the car. "Done." He beamed.

"So what was it?" Sam asked, pulling his earphones out.

"Like you'd understand." Dean said with that same huge grin, ignoring the odd look he was getting from Castiel.

Sam shook his head but couldn't help a small smile. "Shouldn't you test it or something?"

"That's what I thought." Cas agreed, his eyes still trained on Dean. God it was hard to hide stuff from an angel while he stared at you like that. Dean felt like he was being X-rayed.

It didn't help that the butterflies were back.

"Look, I know when my baby is fixed. And she is fixed right up." He said, avoiding Cas' eyes and trying to seem like his usual self. He leant against the car and stroked the curve of the front window with one hand with a quiet moan, joking to throw Cas off the scent. 

Sam pulled a face. "Gross dude."

"It's a grown up thing, Sam, you'll understand one day!" Dean forced.

Sam made a gagging noise and wandered over to the passenger seat, "Y'know a guy in Ohio married his car."

"I bet she wasn't as beautiful as this gorgeous machine though. God I'd never want to tie this girl down." Sam laughed and Dean grinned again. At least Sam was easy to fool.

Sam climbed in and Dean (goddammit Dean) made accidental eye contact with Cas. "Hop in." He said awkwardly. "I'm just gonna take a leak."

Cas nodded.

A few feet back from the car Dean pulled out the hex bag and his lighter, hoping that this secret wouldn't be one of those that came back and bit him on the ass.

Who was he kidding. 


	4. Chapter 4

  
Pretending to piss on the roadside as a girl was something Dean was gonna forget real quick. It took some serious squat positioning to even work out how to never mind execute such a mindfuck. But for the most part the rest of the journey was uneventful. Cas dropped the suspicion, the butterflies went away and nobody asked what had been wrong with the car. It felt like a win-win for Dean when they arrived in Rockwell at the nuts Motel.

"It's Walnuts Motel." Sam corrected him, rolling his eyes.

"You're a walnut." Dean mumbled as they pulled into the parking lot under the broken fluorescent sign.

Sam shook his head, amused, and climbed out his side of the car, leaning down to say, "I'll go check us in and be back with the keys in a sec." Dean gave him a double thumbs up.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel Dean looked out into the dark and stifled a yawn. He'd kinda forgotten Cas was in the backseat (bloody angel had been silent for hours) until he spoke up and scared the holy crap out of Dean.

"What's it like being a woman?"

"Holy mother- Cas - Jesus you scared the holy - you can't sneak up on me like that." He spat, clutching the car door in a very un-hunter-like way.

"I didn't. I've been sat here this whole time." Cas frowned, leaning further forward and into Deans line of sight.

Dean rolled his eyes and rubbed down his face with a hand. "Yeah, I know just - next time, cough or something if you wanna ask a question."

He nodded and it fell quiet again. Until Cas coughed.

"Just talk, Cas."

"What is it like being a woman?"

"Like I'm carrying two potatoes on my chest and gotta weapon missing from my pants." Dean rattled off, leaning back in his seat and running a hand over his hair with a stretch. "But you'd know."

Out of the corner of Deans eye he saw Cas' head tilt just a little. "How would I know?"

"Well, y'know, you angels... you've probably been in a girl at some point right? I mean a girls body - I mean, a vessel." Dean back tracked, turning a little pink and laughing at himself. God what was his problem?

"I've never been a woman." Cas' piped up from the back seat.

Dean turned a full 180 and regarded Cas. "You were in Claire, like, 4 years ago."

"But that was her body." Cas explained, getting a blank look in return from Dean. "As a wave of celestial intent I never truly felt gender," he continued, patting down his body, "that is, until I became human."

"And you were only ever a dude." Dean nodded, understanding. As he nodded, his ponytail tickled his neck again, a weird reminder of the freaky situation. "To be honest, I keep forgetting. Then these tits appear under my chin and it's surprising. I don't feel any different." Dean looked down at said tits, currently hidden (mostly) under his jumper. "Thought maybe I'd have, like, an uncontrollable urge to shop or something." He added with a mumble glancing out the window.

"You don't appear different to me." Cas commented, Dean raising an eyebrow with a sour smile. "Physically of course," Cas corrected, "but spiritually, you seem like yo-"

"Spiritually? We talking souls here?" Dean asked, spinning to face Cas again. Cas muttered an affirmative. "Nah, conversation ends here. Done. That's enough of that. Sam. Finally." He said, opening his car door, "'Bout time." He called out as he spied Sam walking up to the car, keys in hand.

Sam raised his eyebrows, silently asking _What's been going down?_ Dean stared back with a withered look as he walked past Sam and took the keys from his hand. "One oh three." Sam called from way behind Dean.

"Yeah, yeah." Dean yelled back, waving his hand. He needed pay-per-view and beer.

_______________________

 

 

  
Dean was in the bathroom by the time Cas and Sam wandered into the motel room, staring at his reflection again. He found that if he squinted, he looked almost normal. Almost.

Yeah right. He looked like a PowerPuff girl. With a huff, he grabbed the hair band and pulled it out of his hair. Along with a handful of dirty blonde strands. "Ah! Son of a bitch!" Dean cursed, reaching at his head where it felt like he'd ripped his scalp.

"Dean?" Sam's voice recalled through the bathroom door. Jeez, he couldn't get ten minutes of peace, Dean thought rubbing his sore head.

With a sigh, Dean shouted, "Yeah, give me a second." and splashed cold water on his face, hating the way the hair around his face held a shit ton of water and stuck to his face in really uncomfortable ways. Pushing it back, he made a mental note to cut it all off if he was stuck like this.

Wait - stuck like this? He wasn't going to get stuck. He was Dean fucking Winchester, not some blonde bimbo that couldn't handle an elastic band in her hair. He was going to kick this in the ass.

Dean nodded at the girl in the mirror and steeled himself before walking out into the main room, giving Cas a glance before facing Sam and saying, "Lets go. Let's get this bitch." Cas and Sam exchanged a cautious glance. "What."

"Are you okay?" Sam asked after a pause.

Dean huffed. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm always fine." He crossed his arms over his chest and ignored the disbelieving looks. "Just show me the facts, alright?"

Sam nodded and pulled his laptop out, showing him the details. A house on the west side was the centre of the activity. "Some of the lore doesn't quite match up, but we know enough." Sam said as Dean rubbed the nape of his neck, pushing his hair to one side.

"And how do we kill it?" Dean asked, straight to the point.

"Killing a Chimera would require a celestial bronze dagger." Cas piped up from where he'd been sat quietly, watching.

Sam agreed. "Yeah that's what the lore said. I asked Cas about it before and he said, well... " Sam looked over to Cas pointedly as a blade fell from his trenchcoat sleeve, but instead of the usual silver angel blade this one was a dirty yellow colour.

"Here." Cas said, offering the dagger to Dean.

It was fairly light but well weighted and shaped similarly to the angel blade. "So, what? Stick it with the yellow angel prick and that's it?" Sam and Cas both nodded.  "Well then. Let's go poke us a Ki-monster."

"Chimera." Sam corrected.

"Same thing."


	5. Chapter 5

"This stupid hair is driving me crazy." Dean muttered as he slipped his gun into the back of his pants. He loaded up on holy oil, water and salt as they stood by the truck, the pre-hunt tradition.

Sam did the same. "Tie it up. Quit complaining." He said, rummaging around in what looked like a gym bag.

"I'm not -" Dean argued, coming up short when Sam offered up an actual hair band in his palm. "You... wear that?"

Sam stared at his brother hard, clearly regretting his decision to be kind. "Only to run." He said defensively. Dean grinned patronisingly. "It gets sweaty -" Deans face stayed the same. "Shut up."

"'Kay Samantha." Dean bounced back, still smiling. He didn't seem to see the irony in calling Sam a girl. Sam pulled yet another bitchface and slammed the trunk closed. Dean wondered if he should start cataloging the bitchfaces. It'd be a real contribution to the Men of Letters archives.

"... the knife, right? Dean?" Sam said, waving a hand in front of Deans face.

Dean blinked and mumbled "What?"

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Have you got the knife?"

"Oh yeah, yeah, we're all good." Dean answered, gripping the knife tighter in his hand.

The house in front of them was a converted barn of sorts. A posh renovation designed to smell like money. Dean pointed round to the back of the building and Sam nodded. Down the side of the building Dean busted the lock on an electrics box and Sam cut the power to a freaking expensive alarm. Something about this place wasn't adding up, but Dean was too focused on taking this thing down and getting his body back to even think about it.

Reaching the back of the building, Sam tapped his arm. "Something's up." He whispered, nodding his head towards the big glass walls on the back of the house. It's like the owner wanted you to see their fancy coffee machine and flat screen. Dean shrugged at Sam. So what if this Chim-possible thing liked to have posh shit? It'd probably been trapped down the Men of Letters basement for hundreds of years, big surprise, it wanted a 36inch flat screen.

Flipping out his tools, Dean bent down to pick the lock on the back door. With a few small moves it popped open smoothly. Ha, Dean thought, all these extravagant security alarms were about as useful as a Durex machine in the Vatican. The older hunter waved his brother through as he pocketed the tools. "Easy peasy." He whispered to himself, female hands sure, but they were still his. Nimble and awesome as ever.

Inside the house was as extra as the outside. Leather couch, crystal kitchen sides, and - that had to be at least 42 inches. Dean eyed up the remote, wondering how much credit fraud it'd take to afford a tv like this.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, who was almost drooling over the thought of watching Dr. Sexy MD on that thing. "Come on," we whispered, "we gotta scout out the place."

"Don't think that's necessary." A woman spoke up from the entrance. "Evenin' Winchester, Crowley sent you? Boy he scrapes the bottom of the barrel these days. Who's your friend?"

Dean glared. The woman stepped closer, grinning. She looked like a "real" trophy wife, 90% plastic, 10% bleach; 10 out 10 in Deans books honestly. The woman's eyes widened in the quiet. " _Dean_ Winchester? Is that you? Oh damn. The boss is going to have a field day! Look at that sweet lil' rack you got there."

Dean wasn't really listening. He had one goal. "Shut it." He threatened, but it didn't sound as harsh as usual.

"Somebody's a bit emotional." The woman winked before laughing a little manically. She wiped an imaginary tear away with a manicured finger and walked through the house to the open space kitchen. She didn't seem too worried. "Get it? Emotional?" The hunters stood silently, ready to beat her down. She huffed a sigh and opened a cupboard, pulling some liquor down off the shelf.

As she poured herself a glass, Dean glanced over at Sam, communicating with their eyes. Dean would go 'round the back,  Sam stays put in front. "Change him back." Sam said, mainly to keep the monster talking.

"Why exactly would I do that?" She answered as Dean made his way behind her. This was too easy. "Even if I could, this is hilarious."

"You mean you - wait - Dean -"

"Go on Deanna! Get it over with." The woman said as she turned to face Dean. He didn't hesitate.

The blade slid between her ribs like a hot knife through butter. Dean let time slow around him as the monster's eyes glazed over, staring through the Winchester. It made a small squelching sound in the back of its throat and slid off Deans knife and to the floor with a lightening-esque glow. It was actually a bit anticlimactic, over too soon.

Still, Dean was glad be got to ice the son-of-a-bitch. That's what you get when you fuck with a Winchester! "Yeah. That's how we roll!" Dean yelled, giving it a kick for good measure. "Yeah!"

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Well?" Dean said, smiling up at Sam expectantly, arms out as if to be examined. Maybe he'd turn back into a dude instantly!

Sam's smile melted at the corners, his entire face looking a bit sad and sympathetic. "Well... You killed it."

"And..?"

"And... you're still, er, not you." Sam finished awkwardly, shifting his weight back and pulling a few overly empathetic faces.

Deans mood dropped, his heart sinking into his gut somewhere. "Yeah, well, obviously." He said, clearing his throat and trying to dislodge the lump that had formed there. "It isn't going to happen straight away." Dean bullshitted, making up stuff to help him feel better. "I turned into a chick over night so I just gotta sleep, right?"

"Right." Sam said, sliding his gun back into the back of his pants.

_________________

 

 

 

Back in the motel Dean wasn't himself. Sam understood, they'd killed the monster and he hadn't turned back to a guy. It was probably pretty disappointing. But he'd most likely be back to normal by morning, there was no need to be a bitch about it.

"I'm going out." Dean grumbled, grabbing his keys and walking past where Sam sat, watching an old documentary on crime stats.

Sam nodded but sat up as he had an after thought. "Be careful."

Dean paused, halfway out the door. "'Be careful'?"He quoted, looking at Sam like he'd lost his frigging brains.

Sam instantly regretted saying it. "I just mean - you're, well, a woman now."

"Sam I'm not a fucking Girl Scout."

"I didn't say that! Just, keep an eye out for creeps." Sam stumbled through, trying not to offend Deans precious masculinity.

"Let them try." He grunted, slamming the door shut behind him.

Sam sighed long and loud as the Impala engine roared to life outside and slipped away into the night. God it's been a long day. Dean being a girl was more than a little difficult. Who knew Dean was so insecure about his masculinity.

He leant his head back on the headboard closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Crowley was stood in front of the tv in his usual black suit attire. 

"What the hell have you boys been doing?"

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

The dive bar was pretty empty, but that's how Dean likes it. Empty, quiet and dark. He picked a spot on the end of the bar and committed himself to it for the next few hours (the longest relationship he's willing to commit to), ordering a beer.

"Be careful." Dean muttered to himself under his breath. Not having a penis didn't magically take away his ability to punch someone in the nose. Dean gulped down his beer and tried to clear his head.

It was nice, the bar, peace and quiet away from anyone who knew him. By that he meant Sam. The bartender was a cute blonde, the beer wasn't bad and the soft music drifting through the bar was Styx's Renegade. In fact, he'd almost forgotten the whole sex debacle. "The jig is up, the news is out, They've finally found me..." he sang under his breath.

It was three beers later when somebody decided it was a good idea to try and talk to him. A guy. He wasn't bad looking, close cut brown hair, a well-groomed beard and some rather impressive tattoo sleeves. He looked a bit out of place in a dive bar on a Tuesday night, but Dean guessed that he probably looked that way too.

"You look out of place." The guy confirmed with an interesting chat up line.

Dean sighed. "You don't know the half of it."

The guy laughed, clearly taking it as a joke. Jeez, if only he knew. "Why're you here?" He asked, clearly taking Deans response as an all clear and taking a seat next to him.

"Why are you here?" Dean snapped back, going on the defensive.

"Cheap beer and hot wings?" The guy shrugged.

Dean frowned at this guy. He was clearly on the prowl but what was the harm in talking to him? It's not like Dean couldn't take him if he got a bit handsy. "They do hot wings?" He asked, still frowning seriously.

The guy grinned and waved over the barkeep. "Two beers and a basket of hot wings for... " he looked over at Dean expectantly.

"Ah, Dee." He lied.

He raised an eyebrow but let it slide, reaching across to shake Deans hand. "Nice to meet you, Dee. I'm Rick."

____________________

 

  
"Crowley?" Sam blinked, frowning at the king of hell stood at the end of his bed. "What?"

"'Pardon'." The king corrected, "Who raised you? Bloody hunters." Crowley complained as he walked around the edge of the bed and Sam swung his legs around the side. "Why, pray tell, have you been topping off my prey?"

"Your prey?" Sam rubbed his eyes. He did not have the energy for dealing with Crowley right now.

"The fucking woman that your twat of a _sister_ just stabbed!"

Sam's thoughts halted in their tracks. Crowley knew the monster that turned Dean into a girl? How? "The Chimera?"

"What in the holy hell is a Chimera?"

___________________

 

"... And, and then the guy says, he's not an eggplant, he's retarded." Rick finishes and Dean cracks up laughing. He's really not quite sure if it was that funny, but he was having fun so what did it matter.

He was having a lot of fun actually. He considered the thought that maybe his tolerance was different now he was a hot piece of ass but dismissed it. Girl or not, Winchesters aren't pussy drinkers.

AC/DC started playing through the speakers and Dean hummed along. Rick watched as he downed the rest of his beer. "Take a picture." Dean mumbled, joking, but feeling self conscious all the same.

"Would if I could." Rick laughed, looking away and taking a swig of his drink. "A girl like you's special."

Dean sputtered as he began his next drink, coughing. "Ain't another girl like me, Rick." He spat out after he'd caught his breath back.

Rick looked over at Dean and back at his drink, a small smile on his face. He did it again and suddenly Dean knew exactly what was going on in his head. This guy was plucking up the courage. "D'you wanna come back to mine, Dee? I got decent beer and 80's rock."

Dean laughed. "How did you know?" He asked.

Rick pointed an index finger to the ceiling and looked like he was listening. "So just look at me now I'm just makin' my play, don't try to push your luck just get out of my way." He mouthed along perfectly with the song, "Cause I'm back, yes I'm back."

Dean laughed and realised he had to stop talking to this guy. He could easily go along with him and get smashed to some good music, but this guy was expecting sex. "I'm impressed, but I don't think so."

"Why not?" Rick asked.

 _I dunno dude, because I'm not gay?_ He thought, but didn't say. "Trust me, you don't want to see this face in the morning." He laughed, it dawning on him that he'll be back to himself by sunrise, dick 'n' all.

Rick shrugged. "I disagree, but whatever you say gorgeous."

Dean cringed.

___________________

 

Crowley was pacing up and down the motel, Sam sat a little dumbstruck still on the bed. "Look girls I don't care what you get up to when I'm not around, but that one was mine to torture." He said, pointing hard at his round, red face. "I had a six year plan for that one." He exclaimed. "You owe me a six year torture scheme."

Sam put the slightly threatening comment aside, the pieces slotting into place. "Wait, Crowley. You mean you didn't know she was a Chimera?"

"She could've been a Creationist for all I know." The demon grunted, his accent thick. "I just know she escaped a deep dark corner of hell and she was going straight back when I was done with her."

She was from hell? So she couldn't possibly be the monster from the bunker archives. "She was a demon." Sam stated, having asked himself.

Crowley stopped in his pacing and looked at Sam like he was dribbling on himself. "Jesus. I forget how slow you are." He said, shaking his head slowly.

Sam wasn't really listening, his thoughts busy processing the fact that they hadn't killed the Chimera. They'd killed some B-list demon. So there was no way Dean could possibly turn back to himself over night. "Crap."

_________________

 

He'd been turned down by three women when the blonde barkeep flat out said she wasn't a lesbian.

"Nor am I!" Dean'd yelled after her, smacking his hand on the bar. Well there went his drinks for the night. No beer, no chicks. Dean swore under his breath and considered going back to the motel when he caught Ricks eye again across the room.

He'd been rejected so many times tonight, it would be nice to be around someone who was interested. He didn't have to actually screw him.

Fuck it. Rick's attractive. Is it even gay if he's a girl? It can't be, right? Dean looked down at his tits and wished he had something better than the old jumper he had on. Girls in jumpers weren't as hot as girls in tank tops. Hell, he wasn't even wearing a bra. He pulled the bobble out of his hair, a bit more carefully this time, and shook it out, making his way over to Rick with a smile. _Holy fuck what am I doing_ , he thought distantly. 

"Did I just hear you yell after the barkeeper that you aren't a lesbian?" Rick laughed.

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Rick lead Dean back out to his car, a nicely kept 88' Chevrolet 454SS, leaning in a bit too close when he opened the passenger door for Dean. If Dean weren't so uncomfortable it'd be ironic how many of the moves this guy was using Dean so frequently used. He'd never been on this side of it before. "Nice car."

"Thanks." Rick said as he buckled himself in. The conversation didn't go much further than that and when he starting putting his hand on Deans jean clad thigh as they drove Dean drunkly realised what Sam had been on about. When they'd been driving half an hour Dean started wondering where they were actually going. "How far is it to yours?"

"Not far." He said, without much explanation.

Dean nodded and tried to relax. He eyed the hand on his thigh and wondered if this is what this always feels like for the girl. So... evasive. Maybe it's just because he's not gay.

They pulled up outside a suburban house, a fence across the lawn. "This is your place?" Dean asked, surprised. "Looks like a married couple with two point five kids and a dog lives here."

Rick laughed. "It was my mom's, she died a couple years ago."

Well Dean could relate to that. He gave Rick a sympathetic look. "Beer?"

"Please." Rick smiled, unplugging and opening the car door.

Which is the moment Dean realised he was stuck. His belt wouldn't open, it was stuck in the plug.

He pulled and tugged at it till Ricks head appeared back in the car. "What's the probl - oh, yeah that buckle is a bit stiff. One sec," he explained, climbing back into the car and leaning over the middle and over Deans lap. "Let me." He said, his hand brushing away Deans to unfasten it himself.

Suddenly Rick was very close. His face was inches from Deans, concentrating on the buckle. But when his concentration slipped, he started searching Deans face. His eyes glancing between his own eyes and his lips. _Holy mother of crap on a cracker he's going to kiss me._ Dean thought, eyes wide as his head moved further back into the headrest in an attempt to move away.

Then, like a freaking rom-com, Rick leant in and kissed Dean. He just sat there and let it happen. It... wasn't half bad. His lips didn't feel much different from a woman's. Dean's hands stayed down by his sides, a bit trapped there by Ricks body. After a fraction of a second, Dean kissed back.

Then the seatbelt unbuckled with a click and Dean punched him square in the nose.

Luckily, because of how Rick was trapping his arms, he didn't have much room to pull back so it wasn't as hard as Dean could've punched, but it still bled almost instantly. "What the fuck?!" Rick exclaimed, jumping back from Dean and covering his face. "Christ! Shit! Fucking hell, you psycho!"

Dean didn't quite know what to do. He'd freaked out. "You kissed me!"

"You kissed me back!" Rick argued, and Dean really didn't know what to say to that. "Damn you can punch for a girl."

"I'm not a fricking girl!" Dean yelled, his face burning.

Rick looked over at Dean with surprise. He looked pointedly down at Deans crotch and back up to his face. "So what are you, like, trans?" he said, looking a little grossed out.

Dean covered his junkless-junk and sent a glare at Rick. "Fuck. Off." He opened his door, climbed out and slammed it behind him, flipping Rick the bird through the window.

 

 

  
"Stupid gay dick." Dean mumbled to himself as he walked down the unfamiliar roads, dawn creeping up over the horizon. "'You kissed me back!' Yeah well you kissed me first, dickwad." He muttered, kicking the gravel beneath his feet as he walked.

The wind picked up a little and whipped his hair all around his face, bits going in his mouth and neck, making Dean swear even louder. He searched his pockets for the band Sam gave him but it must've gotten lost. Dean sighed and pushed it out of his face with a grunt.

It'd been such a long day. God, he just wanted to get home. To the bunker, not to some shitty 'nuts' motel. He wanted his memory foam, good coffee and his dick back.

"I can provide the first two, but I think the third request is probably a bit too complicated for me." Castiel said, appearing alongside Dean.

He stopped in his tracks and immediately gave Cas a bone crushing hug. "What're you doing here?" He said, his face smushed into Cas' shoulder now that he was a little shorter.

"You prayed." He replied, equally muffled behind Deans ear. "I mean not to me, but I heard it anyway."

Dean squeezed him tight one last time and let him go, carrying on their walk.

"How did the hunt go?" Cas asked as they walked.

The Winchester shrugged. "Easy."

Cas frowned, looking Dean up and down carefully. "And you're still...?"

"Yeah. Clit and all."

"Maybe by the morning -"

"Yeah." Dean interrupted. "That's what I said."

They were both quiet. Dean isn't sure what made him do it, maybe comfort, but he reached out and held Cas' hand. He didn't look at Cas, who was probably asking a thousand questions with his eyes. He just kept on walking.

 

 

 

  
Cas dropped Dean and the Impala off at the bunker before returning for Sam, who was still sat in the 'nuts' motel (as Dean dubbed it). He hadn't expected to walk in and see the younger Winchester and the current king of hell in a heated discussion over Family Feud.

"It's obviously strip club!" Crowley yelled, waving his arm at the tv from where he sat beside Sam on the bed.

"You're such a pervert. It's a museum! 'A place you visit where you're not allowed to touch anything'? Museum." Sam argued, until he noticed Cas stood in the room. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Your big sister would say the same, Sasquatch. It's strip joint." Crowley continued, staring at the tv.

"Dean's gone home, to the bunker." Cas replied to Sam, ignoring Crowley. "I'll take you home too."

"I'll take the room for the night then boys, tell Deanna I send my love. And a box of Tampax"

Both Sam and Cas ignored the demon in the room and stepped outside. Cas placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and hesitated. "Sam, Dean isn't going to turn back, is he?"

Sam gulped a little and looked down at the ground guiltily. "No, he won't."

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

  
Sam woke to the smell of bacon, egg and coffee drifting along the bunker halls and didn't even bother to stop and put a top on before rushing down to the kitchen. Deans homemade breakfasts were not a thing to be missed.

That and he was hoping that somehow, something had gone right yesterday and Dean would be his old self again making breakfast and drowning himself in coffee.

He turned the corner into the kitchen, hearing pop music and Deans awful singing. Sam let out a small sigh of disappointment when he finally saw his older brother. Dean was making breakfast and drowning in coffee alright but he was also busy pushing his hair over his head and shaking his breasts to Taylor Swift. "I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake..."

"Dude, really?" Sam said, over dramatically shielding his eyes. "I literally just woke up." He said jokingly, hiding his upset.

Dean let out a laugh and turned off the cooker. "Haters gonna hate, Sammy." He countered, flipping the bacon over. "Coffee's on the side. That's the last lot though, I'll go out for more later." He said with a thumb pointing over to the pot.

Mumbling a thanks, Sam poured himself a mug and sat himself down at the table, knowing that Dean wanted him to help in the kitchen about as much as he wanted Sam's help on the Impala. So he stayed out the way and watched Dean work methodically, throwing beans and tomatoes in pans. The music was kinda pop for Deans taste, so that was a bit odd. Sam let it be though. He didn't want to say anything that could possibly bring up the gender issue. (So he didn't say anything). 

Dean dished out breakfast with pride, a big smile on his face. Sam's older brother really did enjoy cooking, it was something he did when he was bored and trying to fill his time or distract him from other thoughts. Sam didn't have to wonder what he was trying to distract himself from.

The eggs were real good. Sam concentrated on eating for a while, humming along to the radio every-so-often and getting odd looks from Dean, who still couldn't work out Sam's taste in music.

Dean wolfed up his food and went back for seconds, leaving Sam to wonder how long it'd take till they brought up the elephant in the room.

It was anther five minutes.

Dean burped, rather like his old self, and leant back in his chair pretty pleased with himself. "Well? You going to ask?"

Sam strapped himself in. This could be a bumpy conservation. "You're still female."

"Yup." Dean nodded, picking something out of his teeth. "It must be taking longer than we thought. I mean, we don't know how long this could take; couple days, a week..."

Sam nodded, deciding to keep his knowledge to himself.

"So I'm not giving up, or whatever, I'm just going to enjoy it while it's happening. Like, how many guys get to just touch a boob whenever they feel like it? This is a pretty bad curse - if that's what this even is, hell, maybe it's a gift!" He thought with a glee, as if it was a brilliant idea.

His mood was infectious though and soon Sam was smiling along with him. Dean stole a strip of bacon from Sam's plate, his hand getting a slap.

"Ow. Hey, sharing is caring."

Sam rolled his eyes. "So what's the plan?"

"I figure we just keep going as normal. Make me some new fake ID, hunt." Dean said with a mouthful of bacon.

"Sounds good. You sure you're okay?" Sam asked, genuinely worried about his brothers mental health.

Dean stared hard. "I've been turned into a girl Sam, not an open person."

Sam didn't really expect anything less from the older Winchester. He cleared up the plates and set them on the sink for Dean, who was still scrounging Sam's leftovers. "I guess I'll go get dressed and look for some weird -"

"Wait, actually." Dean interrupted, gulping down another mouthful of coffee. "I do need one favour." Sam raised an eyebrow that said go on? "Cut this freaking crap off." He said, grabbing his hair in a fist.

"Seriously?" Sam asked, looking surprised.

"I swore like a whore when I tried to brush the tangles out this morning." Dean confided, staring at Sam like this was the biggest secret he'd ever admitted. "It needs to go. Just do it."

"I've never -"

"Just shave it off Sammy."

Sam opened his mouth to object but just flopped it shut again like a fish and shrugged. If it's what Dean wanted. "Let me at least YouTube it."

 

 

Over an hour later, sat in the bunkers main room, Dean could no longer feel that odd tickling of hair on his neck and he felt a hell lot better. He ran his hands through the soft strands atop his head and felt a little more like himself again. "Not bad." Dean said nonchalantly, even though he knew that Sam could tell it helped a lot.

"You're welcome," Sam said, clearing up the hair that's been dropped on the floor. "I'm gonna get down to work now, 'Kay?"

"Sure." Dean replied, hands on his neck (that suddenly felt much cooler). "I'll be... I dunno, napping probably." Dean said to the empty room, since Sam had already run off to the library.

Dean sighed to himself in the huge room. He hadn't been lying to Sam this morning, he was trying to enjoy this experience a bit more, but he had sugar coated it. Before he'd cut his hair he'd thought about taking the razor to it himself. He was struggling to find clothes that were comfortable and his back was so sore from carrying around these stupid tits. He poked one with malice but just ended up making himself laugh. They just bounced back.

Jeez being a woman was distracting. "Cas?" He called out to the angel.

The trench coated man appeared in his usual way, stood way to close to Dean. Which unfortunately landed Dean sat at crotch height. "Hello, Dean." _Hello indeed._

"Hey, I uh, just called for a bit of help."  He explained, standing and stepping a good foot away from the angel. "I need some clothes. Women's clothes."

Cas disappeared without another word.

"Cas! Shit I didn't - nothing pink!" He shouted to the room.

Dean sat on one of the tables and fidgeted with his fingers, waiting for Cas to reappear. When he did he dumped two large bags of shopping on the table. One bag was filled with dark tops with logos, band prints and a couple non threatening bras (sports bras, he later discovered they were called). The other held some women's jeans and a pantsuit.

"I steered more towards the teen clothing for you, I'm sorry, the jeans might be a little tight. I'm afraid that's just the fashion. I figured you could still wear your flannel, they seem very unisex." Cas said, as if he'd spent hours thinking over the topic rather than minutes.

"Thank you." Dean said with a big smile, happy to have such an excellent friend.

Cas' focus shifted to Deans face, smiling too. He blinked a little, his eyes squinting and his head tilting in that very uniquely 'Castiel' way. After a pause he said. "I like your hair."

Dean barked a laugh and clapped Cas on the back, dragging him in for a hug. "C'mon buddy, let's try this stuff on."

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

  
_ https://www.greekmythology.com/Myths/Creatures/Chimaera... _

_ http://www.legendsandchronicles.com/mythological-greek-creatures/chimera... _

_ http://chimeramyth.blogspot.co.uk/2014/11/chimera-origins-of-myth... _

Sam couldn't find anything. He'd been wrong before, he'd just assumed - like Dean'd said - it was a mysterious monster. For someone so smart Sam could be real dumb sometimes. He clicked off the site he was on and rubbed his forehead. There wasn't even any real evidence to support the Chimera theory. He'd just connected the symbol on the bottle -

The symbol. It was definitely a Chimera. Maybe it was a logo. Sam started a new search.

 _http://www.chimerareit.com - an inv_ estment corporation.

 _http://www.chimeracomms.co.uk - PR_ and Marketing.

Nothing seemed related to the Men of Letters bunker or an old bottle. Then Sam spotted something.

_ http://www.chimerabrew.com _

A brewing company. The glass bottle must be from a really, really old bottle of beer. Sam let his head drop forward into his hands. Dean'd been right. The sex swap had nothing to go with the glass bottle in the archives.

 

 

Dean stepped out of the bathroom cautiously. The floor length mirror was out here so he'd have to come out to see how the pantsuit looked, but Cas was also out there. "Don't laugh." He said as he left the toilet stall.

Cas didn't laugh, he looked Dean up and down carefully and asked if it all fit correctly.

"Think so." Dean said, tugging the shirt down a bit and tucking it into the navy pants. He checked himself out in the mirror, like he'd done the morning before. He looked at the girl in the mirror and tried to imagine it was someone else.

She was smartly dressed in a navy suit, the jacket all curvy and fitted in places Dean liked. The pants were a bit tight on her thighs, the muscle there showing how strong she was. She had a bit of a belly going on, which was emphasised by the way the pants sat on her hips. Dean sucked in his stomach and bit and turned sideways. It looked a bit better. The blouse she was wearing actually hid all her tits (unlike Deans other shirts) and the collar was open a bit. It was nice not to have his collar done up. "Not bad."

"Pretty good actually." Cas piped up, quickly turning a bit pink when Dean looked over at him. "I mean the clothes. I picked well."

"Yeah." Dean agreed with a cough. Awkwardness seeping into his bones. "I'm just gonna go -"

"- yeah you you should probably -"

" - get dressed." Dean said, wandering back to the cubicle. He took the blazer off quickly and fanned himself a little, wiping his face. These embarrassing moments with Cas were happening far too often. It was like a teenage crush.

Actually, Dean'd gone through this stage in his preteens. Eyeing up older teenagers and flailing for words when he tried to talk to them. Thankfully they'd never stayed anywhere long enough to embarrass himself that much. On the other hand it meant he never got any further than the awkward flirting stage. Not till he was smooth as butter and wine-and-dining girls years older than him.

Dean unbuttoned his shirt, his mind wandering back to yesterday. He hadn't felt this way about that guy. He wasn't exactly repulsed though either. As he slipped the blouse off, Cas spoke up from outside the cubicle. "What happened yesterday?"

"The Chimerie thing? We took it out in minutes. It didn't even put up a fight." Dean explained, unbuttoning his pants.

"Right." Cas' gravelly voice came through the stall. "And after?"

"Nothing happened. Obviously. I went to a bar and..." Dean paused, his pants down by his knees. "Cas, can I ask you something?"

"Always."

Dean cleared his throat and stepped out of his pants. "Would me changing into a girl affect the kind of... people I'm into?" He asked delicately, throwing his clothes over the wall of the toilet stall.

"Be more specific?" Cas answered, throwing a pair of blue jeans back over to Dean.

"Thanks. Ah, like, chicks and dicks." Dean clarified.

Dean had both legs in his jeans by the time Cas replied. "I don't know Dean. You seem the same to me. Are you still attracted to women?"

Cas got a laugh in response. "Yeah. I got called a lesbian. Twice. T-shirt?" A ghostbusters t-shirt appeared over the wall of the stall. "Very funny." Dean smiled.

"Then no, in my opinion your body has no effect on your feelings towards men." Cas said, sounding pleased with the reaction that the t-shirt got. "Or women." He added as an after thought.

Dean unlocked the cubicle and stepped out, slipping an old flannel on over the t-shirt. He glanced at himself in the mirror and grinned. He looked like himself again, back in his rags. Sam'd done a good job on the hair too. He was still totally bangable, just a little more gender ambiguous. "Come on then gorgeous, let's see if Sam's found anything."

Cas spluttered and turned pink again in the mirror behind Dean.

Dean held back a laugh. "I was talking to myself."

 

 

"I'm back!" Dean entered the library, smiling away. Clearly a change of clothes and a haircut was all he needed. Sam only half smiled back, still feeling the lie between them.

He closed the laptop where his searches sat like a failed grade. "Hey! Look at you." He said, turning to greet Dean and Cas. "And the, ah, ghostbusters t-shirt." Sam huffed a small laugh and raised an eyebrow.

Dean grinned and pointed to Cas. "I thought Dean would appreciate the humour." The angel explained.

"I'm sure he does." Sam answered, like Dean wasn't stood right in front of him.  The two stood in front of Sam expectantly, clearly waiting for him to talk.

Sam swore internally, they were stood waiting for any cases Sam might've found, because what he was supposed to be doing in here. Not confirming how wrong he'd been yesterday. Sam quickly put his hand on the laptop as if to make sure it kept its mouth shut. "I couldn't find anything."

Dean frowned, looking surprised. "Oh. We've not been hunting in a while, thought there'd be loads of wacky stuff."

"Nope." Sam lied, popping the 'p'. "I mean I haven't checked my emails yet, so I'll get back to you on that one, but other than that everything looks... ordinary."

"Huh, okay." Dean said pulling a face and sounding totally unconvinced. "Let me know if anything pops up in your emails. I'll check mine too."

"Will do."

"Nice, see you in a bit." Dean said, wandering out of the library.

Sam waved and said a brief, "Bye." before looking at Cas with his best help face on.

The both stayed quiet till they heard Dean slam a door shut on the other side of the bunker.

"What's going on Sam? Dean thinks he should be back to normal any day now." Castiel said, almost leaning over Sam. "Why haven't you told him?"

"Because I wasn't even sure till now!" Sam defended himself in a hushed tone. "Last night all I had was Crowley's word, I wasn't relying on that."

"And now?"

"Now... We have to find another way." Sam said, "Anti-curses, spells, potions, anything we can find. Just while we try and figure out who did this to him."

Castiel eyed Sam warily. "Behind Deans back?"

"For now, yeah." Sam ignored the withered stare Cas gave him in return.

  


	10. Chapter 10

Dean checked his emails as he landed on his bed with a flop. It was mostly just updates from Jody and Claire, a couple hunters further afar, tinder and bustyasianbeauties.com. He'd gotten a deal for the platinum membership recently, premium access, great deal. He hadn't gotten round to using it yet and as he opened the waiting emails he considered it. Then quickly decided against it. For now.

Nope, no fresh cases though.

With a sigh Dean rolled off his bed and pulled his boots on. He'd told Sam he'd go out and grab some coffee at some point, but really he just needed to get out of the bunker. It wasn't far to the local Gas'n'Sip, just 5 or so miles from the bunker.

"... Ah, sometimes I grow so tired  
But I know I've got one thing I got to do..." Dean sang to himself as he wandered 'round the empty shop, picking up coffee and cereal. "Ramble on and now's the time, the time is now,  
to sing my song - ooh tacos." He interrupted himself, throwing some taco shells into his basket as he wandered past them. Taco Wednesday doesn't quite have the same ring to it, "but Midweek Mexican." Dean said out loud, pleased with himself. Everyday was taco day in Deans book. "Fajita every night of the week-a." He said, sniggering as he pictured Sam's disgust at that awful rhyme. He picked up the rest of the bits for an awesome dinner and some green stuff for Sam before heading over to the counter.

"Bag?" The girl behind the counter asked, all life drained from her voice. Dean nodded, distracted by the newspaper stand by the till. The headline was something pointless and political but in the corner was a small article on a guy jailed for killing his family. Martin Frances pleaded for innocence but lost. He claimed -

"Hey. You gotta buy that thing." The girl interrupted, pulling Dean out of the article.

Dean slapped the newspaper on the counter, "Yeah, yeah sorry." As she bagged the rest of the items Dean stopped her. "One second, let me just grab something." He said, dashing off down an aisle. He came back and dumped a 5kg bag of salt and the latest Busty Asian Beauties on the counter. "There."

The girl behind the counter sighed. Dean was hoping she'd look at least a little surprised, he liked freaking people out. Maybe she'd served him before, now he thought about t, he did recognise her a little. Nah, it was a skinny kid with acne that usually served him here. And she wouldn't recognise him anyway, he was all... female. This girl was early twenties, mousy and plain. Her name tag said Emily, but that didn't ring any bells. "Do I know you?" Dean asked, handing over some cash.

The girl rolled her eyes and handed the change over. "Bye." She muttered, as lifelessly as before.

Dean took the carrier bag and left, pondering the kids of today. Must be social media, he'd never been that dead. Then, as he was sat back in the 'Pala finding the location of the Frances murders in his phone, he remembered why.

 

  
"Dean! Watch out! It's not the ex wife, it's the daught – OOF!" Sam cut off abruptly, all the air pushed from his lungs as the tiny teenage ghost threw him into the hospital wall. Damn, that girl had an arm on her.

Dean watched horrified as Sam clutched his head and grimaced, blinking slowly as he slid to the floor, weak and unsteady.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, looking past the creepy looking girl in the middle of the room. The giant hunter was crumpled up on the floor, one hand on his head, the other limp at his side. "Dammit Sam, talk to me!" He yelled again, striking an old iron rod through the ghost. The four-foot-nothing ghost disintegrated but Sam still didn't move. With a grunt, Dean shouted one last time. "Sam!" The younger hunter blinked. "Get up!" Dean yelled, relief coursing through his veins. Dean watched as he pushed his hair back and blood –

Whoa.

Dean had kind of forgotten about the homicidal fifteen year old until she'd appeared about three inches from his nose.

The girl was muttering under her breath as she reached for Dean, he had to strain his ears to hear it. " _Daddy's girl. I'm daddy's girl._ "

"That's some creepy BDSM shit." Dean quipped (entirely to himself) as he brought the iron up again and swiped through her arm. "Cas!" He yelled, Cas immediately appearing beside him as ghost girl disappeared again with a screech. "Go check on Sam, Martin's in the cupboard." He said, throwing the iron bar in his hands to Cas and picking up his shot gun. "I gotta go down to the morgue, burn the body. You stay here and watch Sam."

Cas frowned and stepped forward. "Dean, I should –"

"You've gotta stay here." Dean interrupted, pulling out his best Sam-puppy-eyes. "Please. Look after Sam."

Cas nodded. Puppy eyes always worked, even on beings of celestial intent. Hell, it was only a ghost they were after. A teenage ghost at that. She was pretty powerful for a new ghost but he'd dealt with much worse single handedly. Not since he was a girl mind you, but still.

He burst out of the dark ward and down the stairs, flight after flight in the dark. Crap this hurt his tits. It stank of cleaning fluids, so sterile it was bleaching his nostrils, but Dean kept running, skipping steps as he went and holding his breasts in place with one arm.

As he reached the last flight he saw her at the bottom of the stairs, the bottom of her jeans lit dimly by the exit light. " _Daddy loves me._ " The girl – Jessica! That was it! The dead daughter mumbled.

Dean let one loose into her chest.

Running into the morgue Dean shivered. Dead people fridge or ghost chills he wasn't sure but hey, either way it was creepy. _Jessica Frances_. He ran down the walls, checking every draw. Goosebumps rising along his forearms. _Jessica Frances_. Heavy doors banging against the wall as he pulled them open and slammed them shut. _Jessica Frances._ "Fifth times the charm." He muttered to himself, opening another metal coffin.

" _Daddy doesn't need anyone else!"_

BAM. The door slammed shut on Dean's right hand.

"Son of a fucking _bitch_." Dean cried pulling his hand to his chest and almost dropping his gun.

Pain flared across his fingers and Dean swore again. He attempted to straighten them and cried out. Broken. It was definitely broken.

" _Daddy is mine!"_ The girl screeched behind him moments before he was pushed into the wall of metal doors. Pain panged threw both his nipples and jaw as they were crushed into the cold morgue doors. His vision swam for a second and his hand flared up again. Spinning, he pulled his gun up to his shoulder and _shit_. His trigger finger was all mangled up and broken. He switched shoulders and grunted in pain as he held up the gun with his messed up hand and aimed as best he could. The second round caught her shoulder and she disappeared. He dropped the gun, it wasn't going to be much use now anyway, and opened the door, pulled out the tray and soaked the dead girl head to toe.

" _Mine_."

Dean ignored her and dropped the small canister, pulling his lighter out of his pocket. "This is for my hand, bitch."

' **Never**   **stop for a final line Dean.** ' Dean heard John Winchesters voice rattle around in his brain as he was forced against the wall again, head bouncing off a door handle. He gasped in pain and flicked at the lighter. Dammit, it wasn't lighting. Fucking hell, Dean thought, I'm gonna have to start practicing this shit with my left hand. He flicked it again. Nothing. "Shit."

Small hands were closing around his throat. His shoulder pressed against the wall. Calm, breathe, don't panic, he thought, trying to be the professional he definitely was. 

He flicked it again and again frantically but it wouldn't catch. Just the tiniest spark would do. His right hand screamed but he ignored it. Her hands were choking him now, tight enough to leave bruises.

Dean suddenly saw images of the victims they'd seen yesterday in his head, cold and lifeless on the table, blue and purple rings around their necks. He saw himself with them. Not himself, this girl he was. Dead girl on a table with purple bruises in a pretty necklace. His hand was pathetic now, flicking sporadically, achieving nothing. Arm outstretched to where the body waiting for a lick of flame. Little blobs swam across his vision as the room darkened.

"Dean!"

The ends of his fingers tingled, going numb and the lighter fell from his hand. He didn't hear it hit the floor.

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update guys, I've been very preoccupied with the end of school here in England and the new female Doctor! I thought it was pretty relevant to this story :')
> 
> Anyway enjoy! :)

He didn't hear his lighter hit the floor because Castiel Angel of the fucking Lord had caught it.

The tiny flicker of a flame was the brightest, loveliest sight Dean had ever seen. It fell in slow motion and landed on the corpse, the whole thing lighting up in a blaze, Cas' shadow stood in behind of it. Air sliced through Dean's lungs as he coughed and spluttered, finally able to breath again as the ghost behind him went up in flames.

Then Cas was there. Blurry, but there. Holding him up, mumbling in his ear. "It's over Dean, I've got you." Dean nodded and leaned into Cas, taking advantage of having support. Throwing his arms around Cas' neck and burying his head into his the crook of his shoulder Dean felt like freaking Princess Peach but he was in way too much pain to make a fuss. "Sam's here. We're good." Opening his eyes and craning his neck a little, Dean caught a glimpse of his little brother still stood leaning on the doorway.

"Thank you." Dean croaked, coughing and wheezing as his throat seized up. He frowned and tried not to gulp too hard.

After he regained the strength, Deancould feel Sam's eyes on him and Cas and pulled away from the weird embrace they'd gotten themselves into. He moved his weight back onto his own feet and swayed slightly, coughing up a lung. "Grab Sam. We gotta go before the fire alarm goes off." He wheezed, avoiding Cas' eyes.

"Okay." Dean heard after a pause. Cas shuffled over to Sam and looped his long arm over his trench coated shoulders.

 

 

  
Back in the car, Dean carefully fell into the drivers seat, cradling his sore hand into his chest as he slammed the door shut. Touching his forehead he reach forward and rummaged around in the glove box for some pills. Anything really, this headache was pounding on the inside of his skull.

"Is it broken?" Cas asked, appearing in the passengers seat.

Dean rolled his eyes. "No. I'm crippled like this from too much Mario Kart."

"Dean you should really let me set the bones -"

"Ah!" Dean interrupted with a smile, waving a small packet of pills in the air with his good hand. "No angel mojo better than Codeine."

Cas burned two holes in Dean's head as he threw a couple of capsules back dry, barely registering the bitter taste. "Dean."

"What?" He snapped, wishing they'd take effect faster.

Castiel looked at him for a long time, his eyes slowly drifting down to his hand and back up to his face. He hesitated like he wanted to say something important. "Nothing." Cas he eventually sighed, looking back out of the window at Sam heading towards them as Dean brought the engine to life, ignoring the awkward moment as long as he could. Dean grimaced as his broken fingers touched the wheel but stayed silent. Broken hand or not, Dean was driving.

 

 

  
It was only 6 hours later when they lurched through the door of the bunker, covered in dirt, bruises and dried blood but it felt like 12.

As it turned out, Martin's ex wife had killed both their daughter and herself a few years prior and was a bit cuckoo. It hadn't taken long for them to figure that out, but what they didn't know Martin had ignored Jessica for years. She was a small, sweet, spanner in the works. "Martin was a douche."

"Uh huh." Sam agreed, touching a bruise that has blossomed across his cheek bone.

They'd managed to save the scumbag dad, but it didn't feel like much of a victory. Save an asshole and burn a little girl. God this job was fucked up sometimes.

The hunters marched their way down the staircase and into the main room. "I'm gonna go shower." Sam declared, slipping off his jacket.

"Me too." Dean nodded, "Throw your stuff in the hamper, I'll stick a wash on before food."

Sam nodded with a yawn, wincing at the pain in his forehead.

"Actually, lets fix you up first. Showers later." Dean said, the haziness in his own head clearing in a snap as he realised Sam needed help.

"Pfft," Sam said rolling his eyes. "Me? You're down two fingers." Dean repeated Sam childishly and the taller brother shoved him in response. It was only a soft shove, but Dean bit his tongue as pain flared in his side. He was getting way too old for this shit.

 

 

 

In the kitchen Sam refused help till Deans fingers were sorted. "Look at you. Your trigger finger is so swollen it looks like a pink Twinkie."

"You look like a pink... Twinkie."

Sam pulled a disgusted face at Dean, who couldn't hold back a laugh. "Hand." Sam said firmly, a small smile peeking out behind his serious face. Dean handed over his broken fingers reluctantly as Sam began his handiwork. The older hunter watched patiently, commenting every so often and pointlessly reminding Sam of things he already knows.

"Over both joints."

"I know."

"Don't tie over the break."

"I know."

"Keep -"

"- The splint straight, yeah, I know." Sam interrupted him, finishing off the bandage with a bit of medical tape. "I have been doing this since middle school."

"Yeah and who taught you?" Dean muttered, stretching his neck from side to side and cursing before standing and leaning over Sam where he sat to check out his head.

"I dunno, Dad probably." Sam mumbled, unable so see Dean's face.

Dean sighed and checked them lump on Sam's head delicately, minding his bandaged fingers as he did. It wasn't too bad, they'd had worse. "Yeah, probably." He said under his breath, knowing full well that he'd been the one to fix Sam up (and Dad on occasion) ever since he'd been able to hold a rifle - and in the Winchester family, that was young. Paper cuts to lacerations, Dean'd been the one to teach Sam everything. Nurse Dean. He snorted out loud when he realised he was a girl at the minute. He was literally a hot nurse.

"What?" Sam asked, brushing Deans hands away from his head.

"Nothing." Dean smiled. The younger of the two raised an eyebrow. "Just laughing at how easy you pass out. Dude I break my hand and you pass out 'cause a 12 year old punches you?" Dean joked, pulling a fake pitiful expression.

"Shut up."

 

 

  
They both headed towards the cubicles, stripping as they went. Dean pulled his top off over his head carefully and heard; "Whoa Dean."

"What?" Dean asked, tired and grumpy. Sam looked pointedly at Deans chest. "Jesus Sammy they're just boobs." Dean grumbled, having grown less fond of the pair as the days had gone on. Not only did they hurt his back but when the dead girl was throwing them around Dean'd discovered that landing on your front really hurts as a girl. His nipples were still stinging. He especially wasn't in the mood to be sexualised. He wasn't even naked yet! He had the sports bra on and everything. "Get over it." He barked, peeling his bra off over his head (with difficulty, considering he was one hand down and it was hard to take these things off with two hands) as he stepped into the shower room.

He ignored Sam's "DEAN - JESUS - NO." 


	12. Chapter 12

It felt good to be clean. Between the dodgey looking motels and grave digging they never really had the chance to be really clean so the shower rooms in the bunker were a real blessing. The water ran a muddy colour down the cream tiles and into the drain as it melted the mud and sweat off his skin. He watched it run down his leg hair, surprised how naturally hairless his legs were. Well, not hairless, finer, soft hair instead of the coarse curls that used to cover half his body like a monkey. His eyes travelled up to his naked body and inspected the Jason Pollock painting of purple bruises across his skin. It was nothing new, his skin always looked like this after a hunt. You'd think after so long he'd've evolved beyond bruises. After the shower he wandered out with his towel tucked around his waist, hair wet and sticking up in all directions, waiting for Sam to spy him and run away covering his eyes.

Unfortunately he didn't run into Sam on the walk to the laundry room.

He pulled on some clean pyjama pants and an old t-shirt, revelling in the comfiness before getting down to work with the chores.

He and Sam didn't have any official arrangements, but the chores were split pretty evenly. Dean did laundry; Sam did the trash. Dean cooked dinner; Sam tidied up. Dean cleaned; Sam studied for hours on end in the never ending archives. So it was pretty fair.

He threw Sam's huge flannels and jeans in, chuckling to himself at their limited range of fashion. Flannel, flannel, FED suit, flannel, jeans. He emptied out Sam's pockets quickly, unfolding notes, receipts, a lighter and hey! A quarter! Dean put the stuff aside and picked up his old jeans, the ones he hadn't worn since he was a guy. As he picked them up, something fell onto the floor.

Dean didn't pay it any attention till he'd emptied his pockets and shoved the denim pair into the washing machine. Then he bent down and picked it up hesitantly. It was a small brown drawstring purse with very familiar shapes around the fabric. Dean swore and shoved it in the waistband of his sleep pants.

Another hex bag? Where the hell were these coming from? Dean thought as he quickly threw the rest of the washing in, pockets be damned, and set it off.

Dean ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his face. He was in trouble.

Dean hurried back to his room with the hex bag in his pants, delicately held up by the elastic in his waistband. Once he was in his room, he locked the door and threw the hex bag on the desk. Dean didn't even care that he locked the door so goddamn loud that Sam probably thought he was jacking off.

 

Sam heard Dean's bedroom door slam shut and lock as he was flicking through some seriously old lore. He closed the book with a huff and rested his head in his hands. He'd crossed everything off the list aside from witches, but their hadn't been any evidence to suggest a witch was involved.

And he had this tiny niggling idea growing in the back of his brain, expanding and inflating the more he glanced at it. Dean being a girl wasn't just a curse, it was a funny curse. Dean didn't treat women with respect, now he has to see life from their perspective. His comeuppance... almost like a prank.

Sam shook his head and leant back in his chair. It couldn't be, could it? Gabriel was dead.

 

  
Dean considered opening up the hex bags and checking out the contents but "So long." he mumbled, popping the mechanical bin lid open with his foot. He flicked his lighter, lit the hex bag at the bottom and dropped it in the bin. He let the bin lid close with a thump and felt accomplished. There's another thing dealt with, he thought with a nod.

He felt pleased, that is till he nearly coughed up a lung at the disgusting smell the thing made. Dean wafted his hand in front of his face. Ugh. Next time hopefully the solution will be less smelly. He gulped and grimaced, the bruises on his throat and aching in his fingers making an appearance again as the pain killers wore off. He figured he could grab a nap now and wake up in time for more painkiller and food.

He lay down on his front and sighed, his sore breasts squishing against his body again. He groaned and rolled onto his side, slowly gaining more and more respect for women with giant tits and implants. The realistic life of a hot chick must be really freaking hard. He sent a quick pray for his busty beauties and settled down to have a nap.

Or at least he would if he could get comfortable. He rolled onto his other side and opened his eyes to see the well dressed king of hell lay beside him like a goddamn bikini model.

"FUCK -" he swore, almost rolling off his bed as he grabbed the gun under his pillow. He stood, gripping it in his hand and paused. His trigger finger.

"Struggling there sweetheart?" Crowley's thick accent drawled across the bed in the quiet.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What d'you want." He grumbled, switching his gun to his left hand.

Crowley sat up in the bed and picked a piece of lint off his collar, clearly relaxed. "No beating around the bush, eh?"

"Crowley." Dean growled, tired to his very bones.

"Fine," The demon mumbled, crossing his legs at the ankle, "don't get your knickers in a twist."

Dean stayed quiet.

"The dagger. The bronze celestial dagger your feathered friend gave you." Crowley said after another pause, he could clearly tell it'd been a long day for Dean. "I need it."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "You mean the thing we killed the Chimera with?"

"No, I meant Castiel's dick." Crowley slurred sarcastically. "Yes of course the thing you stabbed that demon with!"

"Demon?" The hunter asked, lowering his gun as he became increasingly confused.

"Yes, Demon. Samantha mistook that demon for some bloody made up monster, that Kit Kat thing -"

"Shut up." Dean interrupted, holding up a hand as if to stop Crowley. "The Chimera? You mean it's not real?"

Crowley shrugged. "I don't know. It's probably a thing somewhere in he world, everything is, but not here, not now, darling."

"So... we didn't kill it?"

"Christ you boys are slow." The king of hell complained, standing and waving his arms at Dean to emphasise his point. "Yes, you killed it. It wasn't a fucking Chimera though. It was my third fucking wife!"

Dean blinked, struggling to process the information. If they hadn't killed the Chimera - if there never had been a Chimera - then they still didn't know why he'd been turned into a girl. He wasn't going to turn back sometime soon because they hadn't solved the problem yet.

Crowley stood awkwardly in the silence, hands on his hips as he waited for Dean's tiny brain to comprehend what he'd just told him. "Look can I have that bloody knife or what?" He snapped, his patience wearing thin.

Dean walked quietly over to a small weapons box in the corner of his room, still deep in thought, and lifted out the golden brown angel blade, turning it so the handle was facing Crowley. When Crowley placed his hand on the handle Dean pulled back a little.

"Wait. You can have it. Just - did Sam know?"

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

"... Cas, I know you're not big on hiding all this from Dean but I really need a favour." Sam said to the empty library, hands clasped and eyes closed.

He peeked out of his right eye, having a look around the room to see if the angel in question had appeared. He hadn't. "Please." He continued regardless. "I think... maybe we should try to summon Gabriel? I know he's dead but - well - it wouldn't be the first time we thought he was dead." Sam waited for a good five minutes in silence, praying in his head. He gave up and leant back in his chair after that, pulling his hands apart and pushing one through his locks. "Y'know what, forget it. I'm seeing links that aren't there, again. He's dead. Please let me know if you think of anything though. It's been days  - "

"FOOD." Dean's voice echoed through the bunker interrupting Sam's prayer. He shouted a quick reply and rubbed his face, wondering if he was crazy to think Gabriel was involved.

When Sam walked into the kitchen Dean was already eating, which was nothing new; the silence however, that was worrying. Sam got himself a drink, sat down and ate a taco and a half before he couldn't take the quiet any longer. "Your fingers okay?" He asked, pausing to have a drink.

"Yeah." Dean replied with a mouth full of food.

"Good, good." Sam said, nodding. "These are good." He said, taking another bite of taco.

"Thanks." Dean answered bluntly.

Clearly Sam's older brother was not in the mood for chatting. Sam let him be and stayed quiet himself, wondering if Dean'd actually gotten his period.

His only experience with periods was way back with Jess and back then he wasn't exactly interested. Once a month she'd just get real grumpy and take mysterious items with her to the toilet. Maybe he should research it.

Then again maybe Dean was just tired. He didn't look like he'd had a nap.

They were silent right up until Dean finished his food. He wiped his mouth and sat back, watching Sam finish his food with a calculating eye. "So Crowley paid me a visit." He said at last.

Sam choked on taco shell a little. "Yeah?" He said, covering himself.

"Yeah. He wanted the knife we killed that Chimera with the other day. He must've seen it when you had that heart to heart in the motel." Dean said, crossing his arms and leaning forward. "Which I thought was weird, because you didn't say anything about that. And you'd tell me if something important like that came up, right?"

Sam gulped, knowing he was in the shit. "Right."

Dean's face crumpled into anger. "Dammit Sam why didn't you tell me?" Dean barked, giving up the sarcastic facade.

Sam dropped the rest of his taco, wiping his mouth. "I didn't -"

"Your damn right you didn't think! It's my body. Why didn't you tell me." Dean grunted.

"Because!" Sam spat, quickly jumping to defend himself. "You were upset! I wanted -"

"You wanted to make me feel better? Jeez Sam." Dean folded his arms and stood up, turning away from the table. "I'm a grown man."

Sam kept inside the quip about those words coming from a female mouth. "I'm sorry - I just thought it was the best option! I've been looking into what else it could be and -"

"And?" Dean said, turning back to Sam and leaning on to table. "And what did you find?"

The younger brother clammed up. He hadn't found anything. He had a small idea but... "... I was going to summon Gabriel."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned away. "Gabriel is dead Sammy."

"We don't know that!"

"Lucifer stabbed him while he was protecting Kali. Don't let your problems get confused with mine. Ding dong. That was the end. You don't come back when Lucifer kills you." Sam raised an eyebrow. "That - that was an alternate timeline - and Rowena - shut up - you lied to me!" Dean stumbled over the words, his mouth moving too fast for his brain.

"I didn't! I just didn't tell you the whole truth." Sam finished, his volume diminishing towards the end of the sentence, feeling guilty.

Dean stared at Sam and shook his head. "I'm going out."

Sam didn't try to stop him. Dean stormed around the kitchen table and grabbed his keys as he headed towards the doorway.

Until Castiel appeared in the doorway.  "Dean Winchester." He grumbled in his usual deep gravelly voice.

"HOLY CR - why can't people knock!" Dean shouted, jumping and walking in a small circle to get rid of his extra energy so he didn't punch Cas in the face. He turned to face Cas again. "What Castiel? What do you want?"

"You gave the king of hell the bronze celestial sword." he said matter-of-fact-ly, still as a stone by the doorway.

"Yes? And?" Dean said impatiently, all too ready to leave and grab a drink.

Cas waited for Dean to slow down and look him in the eye. "He has been slaughtering hundreds of penitent spirits."

All the raw energy buzzing around in Dean left quite suddenly. "What?"

Cas kept Deans focus and explained, becoming more and more upset. "Crowley has had hundreds of Peri trapped in the recesses of hell, torturing them incessantly to keep them enslaved to Hells will."

"Peri?"

"They're Armenian fairies, right?" Sam piped up from behind Dean. Who Dean'd kind of forgotten was there. "Evil spirits?"

"Shut up." Dean mumbled. He was still angry with Sam.

"Yes Sam, but they're no more than impish pests. They work to gain goodness." Cas informed them, walking further into the kitchen and acknowledging Sam's presence. "They can speak, but can only be understood by angels, and can only repeat words and phrases that have been spoken to them previously." Cas explained, "But Crowley seems to think that he can get them to tell him what the angels are up to."

"And?"

"And they aren't telling him anything of course. They're essentially intelligent parrots. Luckily they can only be killed by the bronze celestial dagger." Cas said darkly. "Oh wait." He added sarcastically.

"You didn't say anything about this!" Dean exclaimed.

Cas stepped closer to Dean, his eyebrows kitted close together. "I assumed I wouldn't have to tell you not to give an angelic weapon to the King of Hell." Dean slammed his mouth shut, embarrassed. "It was a stupid mistake Dean. You're so preoccupied with being female that you're missing the big things."

Dean blinked back tears. He wasn't sure if it was tiredness, anger or the look of disappointment in Cas' eyes, but something made him break. He stepped back, away from Castiel and clutched the keys tighter in his hand, his bandaged fingers throbbing. He gulped back the lump in his throat and pointed at Sam, his eyes still locked with Cas'. "I'll be back tomorrow. Don't wait up." He said quietly before dragging his ass out to the the Impala.

 

The kitchen felt empty without Dean as Sam and Castiel stood together, staring at the doorway Dean'd left from. Cas took some calming breaths and looked at Sam for information. When he'd confronted Dean he'd expected at least an apology. Instead Dean had fled, looking like he was about to cry. The taller Winchester looked at the ground and played with his nails. "Ah... he knows. He knows it wasn't a Chimera." Sam confessed, glancing up to see that Cas had disappeared.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean slammed the car door shut and thumped his head on the wheel a few times. Possibly trying to knock sense into himself. He should've apologised to Cas. He should've told Sam about the hex bags. He should've done a lot of things but he didn't, he was just so overwhelmed. His neck groaned where the bruises had collected most densely and after a brief moment or so Dean sat up again and rubbed his face, letting the groan escape out loud. As his groan died out Dean heard a small cough to his right.

Dean glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Cas sat patiently waiting for Dean to notice him. The hunter scrunched his eyes tightly shut again and ran his hands through his hair.

Cas coughed a little louder. At least he'd taken on board what Dean had said and hadn't scared the shit out of him again. "'M sorry." Dean said, dropping his arms and staring straight ahead. "I wasn't thinking."

"It's not your fault." Cas said firmly, surprising Dean a little. "I should have returned the weapon back to Heaven."

Dean stayed quiet. He didn't want to argue again. "Still, I should've at least asked Crowley what he was up to. I... I traded information for it." Dean realised, shaking his head, a bit disgusted with himself.

Cas nodded. "Sam told me."

Turning to look at Cas, Dean wondered why Cas had followed him. The angel was sat more slumped than his usual stick-up-the-ass posture, his shoulders and head drawn down into himself. His hair was still the same dark, wild, mop it always was but somehow it looked more limp. His pale face was flushed and his hands lay palm up in his lap. "You knew." Dean said, unsure wether it was a question or a statement. Awe

"Yes." Cas answered, looking up from his lap and out of the front window. "I didn't want to hide it from you, believe me." He sighed, turning to face Dean. "I've known the Winchesters long enough to know that secrets lead to trouble."

Dean gulped, eager to change the topic. "Yeah. So how do we, ah, rescue the fairies?" He asked.

"Heaven has already sent a rescue mission, but they are mostly likely to save the weapon, rather than the Peri." Cas mumbled, sounding displeased. "They're nothing but insects to angels."

Nodding, Dean stayed quiet again. He didn't quite know what to say. It made sense that Cas would be upset though, of course Cas - the angel that loved humans and bees the same - would care about the angel equivalent of houseflies dying in some dungeon in Hell. "We could go, y'know, team-free-will go an' uh, rescue the Peri?" Dean suggested, enjoying the small smile he got from Cas in return. "I could go back and get Sam and -"

"No, Dean." Cas said firmly, placing his hand on Deans shoulder. "I trust my brothers and sisters. Also, I get the feeling I'm not welcome in their affairs anymore."

Dean raised an eyebrow in response, his expression clearly reading _Like that's ever stopped you before._

"That was in the past," Cas continued, not at all convincing Dean. "Hannah is running things quite smoothly up there now. I don't want to get in the way."

"Well either go 'get in the way' or go get lost because I'm going for a drink." Dean said by way of conclusion,  jamming the keys into the lock and waking the engine. The Winchester didn't turn to face Cas, but he could feel him staring. "What." He spat, all bark and no bite.

Cas answered cautiously. "Do you think it's a good idea to go out drinking? Considering last time?"

"What?" Dean said nonchalantly, "Nothing happened."

"You punched an innocent man in the nose."

"And?" Dean asked, turning to face Cas sharply, daring Cas to say something.

Cas rose to Deans dare. "And I don't want you injuring other people because you're confused." Cas said coolly, his deep gravelly voice dropping an octave.

Dean looked ahead again, smacking the stereo, listening to the first track that came on. "I'm not confused."

"Sure. I'm sure suddenly switching genders is very simple." Cas muttered. Jeez he was annoyingly sarcastic nowadays. Eight years ago he didn't even understand metaphors and now he was a sarky bitch twenty-four-seven. The Winchesters must be a bad influence. "Nothing confusing about waking up with breasts and - "

"Shut up." Dean mumbled, listening to the music drifting from his speakers. "I'm going out."

"Fine. Then I'm coming with you."

"Fine."

"Good."

Dean scowled, unsure why he was so offended by Cas -his best friend- coming with him for a drink. Actually, he did know; he was being babysat. First Sam telling him to be careful and now Cas bodyguarding him. He gripped the wheel tighter and ignoring the scream in his right hand where his splinted fingers wouldn't bend around the wheel.

"Spend all your time waiting," the music started saying, "For that second chance, For a break that would make it okay..."

Dean realised which song was playing with a start. He quickly turned it off again, turning faintly pink as he pulled out of the bunker and onto the road, his eyebrows furrowing even deeper into his face.

 

 

The third bartender they met was just as strong willed as his predecessors, unfortunately.   
"Look... I'm sorry but I don't care how hard you think you are, I can't allow you to do fOtto tequila shots. It's suicide." The bartender said glancing between Dean and Cas, clearly wondering who the couple were. "Hell I'm not even sure we have enough to make forty -"

"Honestly man, he can take it, I promise." Dean said, pointing over at Cas. "Two for me, thirty eight for him. I swear he'll walk out like a freaking priest dude." Dean chuckled to himself, but the bartender just shook his head, eyeing Cas. "Come on! I wanna pay!" He said, handing over his card. The bartender took the card cautiously and looked down at the till, giving in.

Till he looked up with an unamused expression. "This is you? Gareth Johnson?"

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. He could not catch a break. "That's, ah, my friend here -"

"Just get out." The bartender said, throwing the card back at Dean over the bar.

Dean nodded, a chagrin smile on his face as he took the card and headed for the door. Cas tagged along behind, having been absolutely useless so far tonight. They'd tried two bars already and nowhere seemed to believe Cas' tolerance.

And Dean certainly wasn't having a sober babysitter.

As they stepped out into the cold dark air Dean sighed a big cloud of mist.

"Why are you so insistent that I be intoxicated?" Cas asked, the usual curious tilt on his face. It reminded Dean of when he first met Cas.

"Because that stick up your ass falls out when you're drunk." Dean answered bluntly, irritated that he wasn't already off his head. Cas didn't answer, so Dean headed back to the car.

When he did answer, Dean was halfway climbing into the car. He paused to listen. "I thought I was less... stick-up-ass than I used to be."

Shit. He'd hurt Cas' feelings. Fuck sake. "No, yeah, of course you are." He said resting his arm on top of the Impala. "I just meant - it makes you more human. Levels the playing field a bit y'know?" Cas nodded, walking around the car in thought. Dean took that as a sign to sit down and scratched his head, wondering where to try next. That's when Cas reappeared. Brown paper bags cradled in his arms like babies. "Is that -?"

The bottles inside clanked as the angel shifted, rolling his eyes. "No, it's groceries." Cas said sarcastically, in fact, almost slurring. Upon closer inspection, Dean noticed Cas' cheeks were fairly pink and his eyes wouldn't focus. "Yes, its alcohol."

A laugh bubbled up and out of Dean, watching as the angel leant forward to fiddle with the stereo, almost dropping a bottle out of a bag as he did. "What did you do?" Dean laughed.

"I drank." Cas replied.

Dean laughed even harder, "Yeah buddy, I guess you did! Ha!"

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy GISHWHES day my lovely friends! :)

  
"Well?" Cas grumbled expectantly from the passenger seat.

"Well..." Dean repeated, leaning over to the angel and pulling out a bottle of who-cares-s'long-as-it's-strong. He shook the bottle lightly as an answer to Cas' question.

Cas' puzzled look told Dean he'd have to spell it out.

"I'm gonna drink." He explained, unscrewing the lid. "You're way ahead of me now, I gotta catch up." And with that he threw back four fast gulps. When the bottle left his lips he let out a 'tsss', wincing. Cas had picked up some nasty shit.

"How long will catchin' up take?" Cas asked, paying little attention to Dean and drawing in lines in the fogged up window of the Impala.

Dean watched the angel play like a kid and smiled. It was cool to see him relaxed. "Just a bit." The faster the better. Dean thought to himself, throwing back some more.

Thankfully, he's been drinking long enough to not taste the crap as it ran down his throat. Three more gulps and he wouldn't even care.

 

Cas laughed loud and clear, throwing his head back over the seat and letting his hands flail. "The - the phallus - hahah -" he chortled as Dean grinned, drawing all kinds of dicks in the condensation on the window. Hairy ones, chunky ones, veiny ones; he was getting real artistic with them, until Cas joined in.

"Oh - no, no! That's just, not that Cas!" He exclaimed, wiping off the half a pussy Cas had managed to draw before Dean could wipe it out.

Cas snorted a laugh. "You're so strange. Penises are funny but vaginas aren't?"

Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head, shrugging, unable to defend himself. "I dunno, just the way it is."

The angel was quiet for a brief second, his eyes surprisingly calculating for how drunk he was. Then with a small lopsided smile he leant forward and drew a large pair of tits on the front window, nipples and all.

Dean burst into laughter, a tears welling up in his eyes as his muscles contracted involuntarily. He slapped the steering wheel repeatedly and opened his eyes to see Cas looked pleased with himself before breaking into the giggles too.

They both wiped their faces and calmed down, every so often spontaneously bubbling back into a laugh and infecting the other. The cycle of cackling died down and both angel and hunter took some long soothing breaths, trying not to look each other in the eye for fear of setting off the giggles again.

In the quiet that followed they were both comfortable, Dean swigging away on a brown glass bottle and Cas staring at the ceiling with a small smile. Dean wanted to lean on Cas or put his feet up onto Cas' lap or something, but he resisted the urge. Cas would probably think he was being weird.

Dean sniffed and wiped away a little more condensation, drawing a messy 'DW' on the window. "Me 'n' Sammy used to do this all the time. When Dad was off doing whatever, we'd play tick-tack-toe on the windows for hours and when Dad came back he'd yell at us for getting finger prints on the window." Dean said. "Finger prints. Said the guy dropping a bloody machete on the passenger seat." He added, wiping off his initials with his whole hand.

"You spent a lot of time in here?" Cas asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "You drive in it, yes, but I thought that's all it was used for."

Dean laughed. "This baby is car, bedroom, kitchen, dining room and sometimes bathroom all in one. Also doubles as a bar." He beamed, clicking his bottle against an empty one that sat on the dashboard, where Dean had put it earlier. Cas smiled an understanding smile and Dean continued. "We spent more time in this car than in any of the towns we stopped in. It's home." Dean said, regretting the words as they left his mouth. 'It's home'? Who was he? Freaking Dorothy?

Before Castiel would ask any more questions or comment on Dean's weird little emotional moment, he sat up bolt straight and tipped his drink towards Cas. "Hey, wanna see something cool?" He asked, not even waiting for Cas' response before he started clambering over the back of the seats. When his top half was in the back he used his injured hand to pry up the leather from the right hand corner of the backseat, just behind the passenger seat. When he could lift the seat padding about four inches up, he stretched it wide and shifted out of the way for Cas to see.

The angel peered over the passenger seat and looked under Deans hand where it held up the backseat. Under the seat was a wooden board, clearly quite old, what must have been an original piece of the car. It was an oak-y colour, aside from the places it was discoloured, and right in the corner two sets of initials were carved. "SW and DW." Cas read aloud. "Sam and Dean Winchester. That _is_ cool Dean."

"Yeah we carved them when he was about six." Dean explained, smiling at the roughly carved letters. "We hid it under here so Dad'd never find out. He never did." He added with a burp that tasted foul. 

Cas reached over and touched where the small knife of Dad's had cut into the wood. "It must be very nice to have someone that you trust entirely."

"Yeah." Dean nodded, his mind swirling back to the hex bags. Even drunk he couldn't escape guilty thoughts. He let go of the back seat with a sigh and a stretch of his sore fingers, the carved letters hidden again. "But you got us now." Dean said, trying to distract himself by focusing on Castiel.

Cas frowned, taking the half empty bottle from Dean and downing a swig, as if that was an ordinary thing that he did. Dean held back a chuckle. "It's not the same though. You don't trust me because I'm an angel. He's human, your brother."

"Pfft that guys more terminator than he is human." Dean said waving his hand. "After everything, Purgatory, Niaomi, Lucifer - twice. I trust you." Cas still looked at him with disbelief. Dean pushed a hand through his hair and tried to think of a way to prove to Cas that he trusted him and - oh. Hex bags. That'd work. It also might clear up some of this guilt he'd been feeling. Two birds one stone. "I ah... I've been meaning to tell you actually. I found a couple hex bags. One in here and one in my jeans back at the bunker." He stated simply, instantly regretting it the minute the words left his mouth.

 

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

"You found hex bags and you didn't think to tell me or Sam?" Cas chided Dean (as much as he could in his intoxicated state). "That's a bit incompetent."

"Hey! I'm not incomp - incom - stupid!" Incompetent was apparently a very difficult word to pronounce. "I just figured it wasn't relevant. I burnt 'em anyway." Dean shrugged, taking the bottle back off Cas.

The angel rolled his eyes, sarcasm clearly unaffected by alcohol. "You thought that curse bags were irrelevant on a case where you've been cursed. You didn't think to connect those two things." Dean blinked, ideas swimming though the soup that was his brain at the current moment. If he'd been wearing those jeans the whole day before he went to sleep that last night as a dude... maybe it was the hex bags that had cursed him. Distantly he heard Cas say, "Wait. You actually didn't make this connection till just now did you."

Dean felt the need to defend himself. "I thought it was down to a Chimera till this afternoon!" He yelled. "Turns out there's no such thing."

The car fell into silence. Dean felt like an idiot but his hazy, tired brain couldn't think of what to do. He'd burnt the hex bags! The Chimera was dead, then it didn't exist. Then he'd sentenced a ton of angel fairies to their deaths. Dean rubbed his head. 

"I wanna get out of this car." He blurted after the silence had stretched over minutes. "Been in here too long." Dean reached for the door handle and paused, turning to look at Cas slowly. "Cas... can you do the..." wiggles his fingers around in a way that was somehow meant to say teleportation. "... poof thing?"

"Huh?" Cas asked, looking as if his brain had teleported far far away during the quiet. "Oh right yeah, I can fly." He nodded, stretching his eyebrows high.

"Famous last words."  Dean muttered to himself. "'Bout six blocks away, corner of Church and Westboat way." Dean explained, barely finishing the sentence before Cas' arm wrapped over his shoulders and pulled him through some weird celestial postal tube.

When Dean feet touched the floor again his stomach muscles all tensed at once, the tacos he'd eaten rising up to his throat. "Urghh." Dean grumbled, stepping away from Cas and gripping his tummy. "Remind me not to do that again." He coughed, leaning against a brick wall.

"Can do." The angel nodded, patting Dean on the back a little stronger than necessary. "Why exactly are we here?" He asked, looking rather lost as he glanced from side to side down the dark side alleys.

Dean gestured upwards with a mischievous grin to a fluorescent sign that read:

_**LADIES LADIES LADIES** _

"A strip joint?" Cas asked rhetorically, raising an eyebrow.

The Winchester shook his head, still smiling like an idiot. "The strip joint. The one we got chased out of like five years ago because you psychoanalysed a hooker."

The bewilderment on Cas' face was replaced with recognition. It dawned on him slowly and as it happened, Dean thought that a blush was climbing up to Cas' ears, but that might've just been the drink. "Right." Cas nodded, "Back then believe I was more of a ..."

"... a douche?"

"An assbutt." Cas finished, receiving another huge smile from Dean.

"Assbutt? Really?"

"I stand by it."

"Nah, you weren't that bad." Dean said reassuringly, giving Cas a strong pat on the shoulder with his left hand. "That night is still one of my best. How many times can you say you've taken an angel to a strip joint and been chased out?"

Cas rolled his eyes. "Hopefully only once."

Dean snorted and held Cas' shoulder tighter. "Seriously, though. You weren't an assbutt." Castiel smiled. "You were just... different."

Cas' eyes were nearly glowing at the half compliment, bight cornflower blue shining in the dark alley. Dean realised he'd been stood staring with his hand on Cas' shoulder with a jolt, letting it drop gently to Cas' arm and eventually back to his own side as his eyes looked anywhere but Cas. He glanced up at the  joint and smiled. "C'mon angel."

Inside the club nothing had changed, it was like stepping back in time. Ah, how time stands still when you're staring at scantily clad women. "Dean, I'm going to get alcohol." Cas yelled over the music as it beat through the speakers near where they stood. " _... Pour some sugar on me! In the name of love!"_

"Pour some sugar on me, come on fire me up." Dean mumbled to himself as he sent a nod over to Cas and found himself a seat in a booth. A red headed beauty wandered past catching Deans attention as he sat down in the booth, his eyes trained on her leather clad ass.

When she turned around Dean huffed a laugh. She was wearing a barely there leather body suit with more cut outs than fabric and small red devil horns. Honestly, strippers in demon costumes were hilarious. It was cheesy, inaccurate and just plain dull when you lived the kinda life Dean led.

Cas came back with a few drinks and a slightly awkward smile. Dean nudged him and pointed over at the red headed demon. "Hey look I found your type." Dean didn't get a reply, just a uniquely Castiel squint of the eyes. "Maybe she'll let you call her Meg." He said, trying to score a reaction.

"Maybe she'll let you call her Crowley." Cas fired back, his tongue like a pistol, steaming off as he drank his beer.

Dean let out a very long; "Buuuuuuurn." Before tipping back his own beer and getting comfortable, watching the rest of the girls wander round.

The stayed for a few hours, just talking and drinking as their buzz slowly wore off. "... Yeah Jess was real good for Sam." Dean told the angel. "I mean I didn't know her and he only talks about her when he's had a few, but she sounded good. Baked him stuff." He added.

"She sounds very nice."

"Yeah she was. I wonder sometimes..." Dean trailed off, getting distracted by a pair of tits as they walked past.

He wasn't being a douche by calling the chick that, honestly. She was 90% breasts. 90% breasts and most likely 60% silicone. Strangely enough he didn't think about sticking his face between them, but instead thought about how much pain her back must go through. His tits weren't huge but they still hurt his back.

Dean turned back to see Cas waiting for him to finish his sentence. "Yeah um, sometimes I wonder what he'd be like if she was still around." _Well that killed the vibe._ Dean thought, picking at the sleeve on his beer as Cas had a look at the people around. Dean considered pointing the boobs out to Cas and decided against it. He lifted his drink to his lips and noticed it was empty. "I'm gonna go get another you...?"

Cas nodded. "Please."

The bar was pretty crowded with guys filling every inch of the bar but Dean managed to squeeze his way though to the front. The one guy serving drinks was on his toes dashing from one customer to another so Dean let him be for a while, waiting till it calmed down to order his beers.

It wasn't long after he'd decided to do so that a large hand groped his ass.

"What the HELL?" Dean exclaimed, spinning to see who the fuck had the nerve to touch his ass and finding a guy smiling. _Freaking smiling_. "Don't touch me." Dean said darkly.

"Oops, sorry sweetcheeks. Thought you worked here for a second there." He said with a wink.

Dean felt sick. All this time he'd spent with Cas he'd forgotten that he wasn't himself and the leering gaze of this disgusting guy was a slap in the face reminder that he wasn't a man.

His fists clenched by his sides, he forget his messed up fingers in his rage. Even if he was a woman what right did he have to touch him? Even if he worked here - which he clearly didn't. It was disgusting. He lifted his fist to his waist and pulled back, already picturing the guy's jaw knocked out of place. _I'll give you sweetcheeks you mother-_

"Dean?" Cas' hand covered Dean fist gently, appearing behind him. It helped and he felt the anger melt away a little. "Are you okay?"

Dean took a deep breath and tried to rise above it. "Yeah." He said through tight teeth, eyes still focused on the dick-weasel in front of him. "I'm fine." He breathed out. 

He wasn't.

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Homophobic language

 

The douche in front of him laughed, reaching past Dean in the tight space and patting Cas on the shoulder. The angel didn't look happy. "Sorry buddy, didn't realise you were with this beauty here." He winked, his slimy gaze trailing over Dean again.

"I'm not." Cas replied for Dean cautiously, acutely aware of how tense Dean was. "We're just friends."

The guy raised an eyebrow and leaned in close to Dean, clearly about to say something, but Dean interrupted him. He leant as far away from the duck weasel as possible and muttered quietly, "Get the fuck away from me." fury simmering under the surface. The mans face turned sour.

"I'm just having a laugh, bitch." He spat before squaring up to Cas and looking straight over Dean, as if he wasn't there. "It was a joke, obviously. She's clearly a dyke."

Dean wasn't quite sure what happened next and whenever he tried to remember it, it blurred into one loud, crimson burst of action.

Castiel yelled "Wait! Don't!" as a guy nearby cheered. Dean launched himself at the pervert and knocked a ton of people down as he did, the domino effect ending as someone pulled down a waitresses bra, exposing her boob. She squealed and Cas held Deans arm back as the third punch landed in the douches cheek. His eye puffed up as another blow landed before Cas got his other arm. He tried to wiggle free but Cas' grip was too tight. Then Cas was pushed away and a guy in plaid had him by the waist. The plaid guy lifted him and carried him out of the crowd as they jeered and yelled. As Dean struggled and kicked the guy carrying him he glanced back over his shoulder and saw the guy he'd punched stand up and yell after Dean through his split lip, "Crazy-ass! You were begging for it!"

Castiel knocked his lights out.

  
Outside on the street again Dean cursed as Cas checked his injuries. "In what world would it make sense to punch someone with a broken hand?" Castiel The Smart Arse Angel asked. The street was quiet, a soft thrum coming from the club inside.

"In a world where - ah! - groping assholes exist." He said through tight teeth as Cas straightened out his fingers again.

"Will you let me fix you up now?" Cas asked in his best mother hen voice. Dean nodded reluctantly. He didn't want to be dependant on Cas' healing powers, but on a day like today he just needed that little bit of magic to make himself feel better. Or at least to make his hand feel better.

With a (pretty smug) smile, Cas took Dean right hand and closed his own around it. The usual white glow seeped out from his palms and onto Dean, where it travelled up the tiny veins and capillaries in his arm. For a moment Deans entire body felt full of light; then it was back to normal. Well, normal as his body could be at the minute. He sighed as the calm left him and looked down at his breasts. They were fairly hidden underneath the layers of clothing but the guy back there certainly knew he was a girl.

"Are you alright?" Castiel asked holding his now healed hand a little tighter.

Dean nodded and squeezed Cas' hand back before shaking him off and checking out his brand new hand. "Yeah, thanks." Having just accepted help and a rather emotionally unstable and delicate night, Dean decided not to dwell on it and distract Cas. "Did you punch that guy back there?"

"Yes."

"After trying to stop me from punching him?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Cas grinned widely, a small indicator that he hadn't exactly sobered up yet. "'Cause he was an assbutt." Dean laughed and pinched his nose, shaking his head at the awful insult. "And because he upset you." Crap, Cas wanted to talk about emotions _again_. "Why did you get so upset?"

"I wasn't upset. I was pissed." Dean corrected pointlessly. Castiel frowned, clearly not understanding. "I was angry because he called me a dyke. Because I'm not. I'm not gay."

"You're not a woman either, so why does it bother you?"

Dean had no defence. Luckily he'd fought many an argument with no validity (ask Sam). So with a petulant face he leant back again the club wall and folded his arms, trying to work out why he was so pissed so he could explain it to Cas.

Actually, Dean didn't have to think for long, it was pretty simple. His dad was a homophobic asshole. "Listen you weren't brought up by my dad, you wouldn't know how much queer-bashing, homophobic shit I had to deal with." Dean frowned at his own choice of words. He hadn't had to 'deal with it' had he? It was just... always there.

Cas was talking but Dean wasn't really listening because he was having a small lightbulb moment. He hadn't had to deal with it. He'd just shoved it to the back of his mind until now. It'd been filed away with how dad used to get his belt out or shout at Sammy.

"He's gone, Dean." Cas said, but Dean still wasn't listening. He was doing an internal monologue.

Because what if it was his dad that was stopping him? Stopping him from putting his legs up on Cas' lap or hold his hand for longer than two Mississippi's? Things that he wanted to do every time Cas smiled. The way he kept his mouth shut every time Cas left, Dean not knowing when he'd be back. The freaking hard-ons he'd always convinced himself we're 'just blocked up pipes'. The way Dean beamed with pride whenever Cas did something human. Hell maybe John Winchester was the reason Dean would rather make gay jokes than realise he loved his best friend.

Wait what.

"Technically you are gay right now. You're a woman who likes women. Though obviously I don't see it like that." Cas voice drifted back into Deans consciousness. "... Dean?"

"Dean?" Dean copied, blinking as his brain did an auto reboot. "I mean, yeah, what?"

Cas had one eyebrow lifted as if to say 'you crazy', the other one in a concerned frown. His head was tilted just a little to the right in that way Cas had done since the first day they'd met. Dean let out a small laugh.

"So what now? I just - ?" Be gay now? He added silently. For Castiel Angel of the Freaking Lord? Unless, of course, Cas didn't like him the same way.

Christ he was being a girl. "Dean I think we should get you back to the bunker."

"I'm gay." Dean mumbled, finally understanding what Cas was saying before. Right now he had a pussy and he liked women so technically he was gay. He didn't feel anything wrong about that. He hadn't felt guilty while looking at those girls in he strip club. So why should he feel guilty about looking at Cas in the same way? Jeez this was some new age-y crap like Sam liked.

Cas was way outside Deans little bubble of realisation still, puzzled and very confused by Deans thought process. "Technically, yes. You are gay right now. You like women."

And men.

Dean thought about Benny. Swazye. Goddamn Doctor Sexy. Castiel. It wasn't a huge list but did it have to be? Dean reached out and snatched Cas' hand back into his own, denying the thoughts of his dad any longer. No more denying himself the happiness.

If anyone ever asked him about this gay discovery he'd lie his ass off and say it never happened.

His smile grew wide threatening to split his face before he got it under control and wet his lip. He had to do it quick. Before he lost his nerve.

He'd been watching Cas' eyes for a long time now, the blue growing deeper and deeper. He tightened his grip on Cas' hand and yanked himself up towards Cas with it, pressing his lips to Cas' before he could think about it any more. _Faggot_ , his fathers voice echoed around his brain but he just held Cas tighter, pulled him closer and squeezed his eyes shut. 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

When Dean opened his eyes, Cas' were wide blue china plates in front of his face. Dean pulled back with a gasp for air, his face still less than an inch from Cas'. Dean opened his mouth to apologise or to ramble out a joke, anything, but found himself speechless. Cas seemed about as well composed.

Dean broke eye contact first, letting go of Cas' hand and wondering if a garbled 'Sorry.' would help. "I ah -"

"Dean." Cas said, for possibly the thousandth time. This time it sounded different. Lower and more intense than usual, which is saying something, considering Castiel Mark One. Dean couldn't help but look up and meet Cas' eyes. Cas' face was much softer now, less surprised. "Be quiet."

And with that the angel pushed Dean back against the bare brick wall, his hand threading around to the back of Dean's neck to bring their lips together again.

This time the thoughts in Deans head were silent. He wasn't thinking hard so he really felt it as Cas' slightly chapped lips touched his gently. Deans eyes fluttered shut and he stopped breathing. He'd expected it to feel different to kissing a girl but in all honesty it was just a different pair of lips.

Dean responded quickly, grabbing at whatever fabric he could to bring Cas closer, but he was still cautious. This wasn't going to be some sloppy drunk kisses. He wanted Cas to know this was important.

The crappy spirits in his system had other ideas.

Before he'd even allowed it, his mouth had opened a little and he was kissing Cas harder, the pressure making Dean want to press his full body against Cas. But the angel stayed a few inches away. Cas' hands had shifted while Dean was was craving more touch, one pushing its way through Deans hair as the other travelled down to Deans waist, which was unnerving. Girls usually held onto his belt. The sensation of Cas' palm and digging finger tips on the softness of his side wasn't unpleasant but Dean tensed a little anyway. Cas' hand slid down to the edge of his pants, just knowing somehow, and Dean relaxed.

Dean followed suit and organised his hands to fall inside Cas' old trenchcoat and on the waistband off his pants. With a pull, Dean used the edge of Cas' pants to bring him closer but the angel barely budged. Dean yanked instead and the angel bumped into Dean clumsily before quickly putting distance again between their hips. Dean pulled away from their kiss and tried to give Cas a clear look that said 'Why do you keep moving away?' because there was no way in hell he was saying that particular little needy question out loud.

Cas' hands slipped from Deans hair and belt a little. "Are you sure you want -"

"Cas get your ass here now." Dean said seriously, all hands as he dragged Cas in by his pants and collar. Cas laughed into the kiss so much so that Dean could feel Cas' smile on his face. Their noses touched as they switched sides, sharing a look before kissing again. Their thighs brushed and Dean pushed himself closer, hesitating when he felt Cas' crotch touch his upper thigh. He'd forgotten the situation in his pants. He didn't have a hard on. On the other hand what he did have...

This could be interesting. "Cas." Dean said between kisses, "Can you-? Mm." He asked into Cas' mouth, refusing to move away or stop. "Poof?"

The angel pulled back. "You told me to remind you not to -"

Dean grinned at his stupid nerd. "Just take me."

 

They appeared in a motel room Dean recognised, but he couldn't care less where they were. His stomach had twisted on the ride but it was totally worth it. He kept Cas closer than and inch at all times, kissing hm along his neck, breathing in the smell of his hair, burying his nose into the crook of the angels neck. The roughness of Cas' five o'clock was surprisingly nice against his cheek. Dean pushed Cas' trenchcoat off his shoulders and buried further into the collar of Cas' shirt.

Cas took the opportunity to kiss down Deans neck, teasing along the edge of Deans collar as he slipped his arms out of the coat, letting it drop to the floor. Dean felt a bubble of laughter pop under the surface of his smile as he realised what an un-Castiel thing that was to do. The Angel Castiel would've folded his coat. This Cas was more human. Deans train of thought got lost as Cas kissed him again, this time teasing and pulling away to make Dean work for it, smiling like he had Dean like this all along.

Dean decided to wipe the grin off his face, stepping back and pulling his top off over his head, licking and biting his lip in the way _all_ the girls went nuts for. He did all this quite confidently; until he realised he still had a freaking sports bra on. Fuck it, he wasn't bothering with fasteners right now. He pulled it off over his head and threw it across the room. Castiel looked hungry when Dean found his eyes again.

His tie was askew, a few of his buttons had popped off where Dean'd pulled a little too hard and his face was flushed pink right to the tips of his ears. His breathing was heavy and honestly, he looked crazy powerful. He stalked towards Dean pulling off his tie as he went, throwing it aside before he reached Dean. His eyes were dark and searching as they scanned Deans face. When they settled on Deans lips the hunter couldn't help but press his own to Cas' and lose himself in the feeling.

Then, like some kinda Cas-anova (remembering that for future reference) Cas bit Deans lower lip and the sharp zing of pleasure went directly to his crotch. He felt himself move close enough to Cas to grind on his thigh lightly, surprised by how similar it felt to having an erection.

Cas' hands were busy unbuttoning his shirt so Dean offered a hand with his belt, sliding the leather out of the buckle and loops, letting it fall nearby.

Dean paused. The niggling thoughts were back, his dad's voice worming around inside his head, stopping him from popping the button of Cas' pants. He looked down at the button and scrunched his eyes up, wincing.

Cas' finger tips ran down Deans soft cheek, lifting his chin to look Cas in the eye. "Are you sure about this?" Cas asked, one hand holding his shirt as the other cupped Deans cheek. "We've both consumed plenty of alcohol."

"Ha, please Cas, I'm functional drunk." Dean joked, still holding onto the button. "What about you? I mean you're..."

"Very consentual."

"Is that even a word?-" Dean asked, quickly cut off as Cas pulled him up and into another deep kiss. John Winchester's voice retreated back into the dusty corners of Deans brain and when they moved apart again Cas looked serious, concerned for Dean. "I'm okay." Dean nodded, his smile slowly blossoming again. "I want this." He said, popping the button open with a wink.

 

 

 

 


End file.
